


If I Had My Hammer

by Crazy_Cat_Lady, tilla123



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Humor, MARVEL would not approve, The Author Regrets Nothing, What Was I Thinking?, violence against glassware
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Cat_Lady/pseuds/Crazy_Cat_Lady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tilla123/pseuds/tilla123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's three days till Thor's coronation, and the first hint of trouble is that Loki is nowhere to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Newton's Third](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297195) by [Severa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severa/pseuds/Severa). 



I strode into the training yard.  “Come, my friends!  We go a-questing!”

Sif kicked her opponent’s legs out from under him, pressed her staff into his chest and turned to me, glaring.  “Are you mad?  Mere days before you are crowned and you wish to go ‘questing’?”

“What sort of quest?” Volstagg belched, tossing aside the shank of lamb on which he’d been gnawing.  

“A glorious quest,” I answered.  “Father has tasked me with seeking out a most masterful magician, a skillful sorcerer, a wickedly wily wizard with whom he wishes to consult.”

“By ‘me’,” Fandral said frowning and dabbing at the grease on his doublet.  I assume you mean ‘us’, yes?”

Sif rolled her eyes.  “The All-Father refers to your brother, no doubt.  Why?”

“I told you.  He wants to discuss something with him.”  I grinned.  “Come, we will find Loki and then go drinking!”

“And, if this sorcerer – your brother - wishes not to be found?”

“Oh, Hogun,” I laughed as I shook my head and slapped my friend on the shoulder.  “Who can hide from us?  Are we not the greatest hunters and trackers and warriors in all of Asgard?”

Fandral gave a little cough.  “Actually, not to put too great a damper on your mood, but isn’t Loki the greatest tracker in Asgard?”  I frowned as he continued.  “And wouldn’t it follow that as the greatest at tracking he’d also be the greatest at hiding?”

Well, that was worrisome but I was full of confidence.  My brother couldn’t hide from all of us surely.  Loki would be found; I’d give him Father’s summons which he’d leap to obey; and my friends and I would while the rest of the afternoon away in one tavern or another.  Volstagg would stuff his face with food; Fandrall would stuff his in the bosoms of a few lovely and willing maids; Sif would start a fight or two with the maids’ brothers, fathers, or husbands (in defense of our friend, of course) which Hogun and I would finish.  It would be wondrous!

For three days – three whole days – I and my friends searched throughout Asgard and Loki was nowhere to be found.  Certain he would be in the library I had looked there first after searching his bedchamber and found nothing but books and scrolls.  “What else should one find in a library?”  I could almost hear him ask, if I were ever foolish enough to tell him that.

“Did you look in his room?” Volstagg panted that first day as we trudged up the stairs to my brother’s tower retreat.

“Of course,” I answered.  “That was the first place I searched.”

“Ah hem.”  I looked at Fandral.   “Exactly how, if I might ask, did you ‘search’, if he wasn’t there?  Did you use one of your Mother’s scrying bowls, perhaps?  Ask the All-Father’s ravens to take a peek?”  

I frowned.  “Of course not,” I protested.  “I just walked in and looked for him.”

“Thor,” Volstagg collapsed onto a stair and tugged at my cloak.  “How did you ‘just walk in’?

“Indeed,” Fandral chimed in.  “That was to be my next question.  I don’t imagine Loki is in the habit of leaving his doors unlocked while he’s away.  Oh, I’m sure he trusts you,” he went on hurriedly when I began to scowl.  “But you know how servants are – so careless, so inquisitive, so dirty.”  He shuddered.

“I broke down his door,” I muttered.  “With Mjolnir,” I added, patting my hammer as she swung by my side.  ”But I fixed it.  He’ll never know.”

Sif laughed.  “He’ll never know?  Thor, this is your brother we’re speaking of - your brother who notices if a paper or pen has moved so much as a hair out of place.  He will kill you!”

 

“Thor,” Father grumbled.  “Have you forgotten I asked you to fetch your brother?  There are things that must be said before you are crowned.”

“No, sire,” I sighed.  The sun not even past midpoint in the heavens and already the old man was grumbling?  “I have had no chance as yet to give him your message.”  I only hoped he’d not ask why I’d not had the chance as I saw my brother – normally – every day.

 

Next, we scoured the baths, though knowing how Loki liked his privacy I doubted we’d find him there.  “Perhaps the kitchens,” Volstagg suggested rubbing his stomach which gave a mighty rumble.  “Loki does like to eat.”

“Not as much as you, my friend,” Fandral quipped.  “But do lead the way.”

Loki wasn’t there, either, though several of the maids looked hopeful.  “He brings us such spices and herbs from his travels, my lord,” explained Cook.  “Such lovely fruits as I’ve never seen.”

“And so tasty,” agreed a little lad scrubbing pots.  “YUM!”

Was my brother playing grocer?  I looked at my friends.  “When did Loki take up farming?”

Cook laughed.  “Oh no, my lord,” she said.  “He doesn’t farm though he’s a right hand with a skillet and making the gardens to grow and some of the changes he’s made to the old recipes, well let’s just say my own mother couldn’t have done better.”

“Loki cooks?”  My voice came out in a squeak and I coughed and grabbed a mug of ale quaffing most of it in a single go.  I coughed again.  That wasn’t ale.  I stared into the mug and saw - water.  Disappointed, I set the mug back on the table.  I suspected I was going to need something stronger than ale before the day was through.  More shocks like this and I’d need the contents of Father’s entire cellar.

“When did you last see His Highness?” Fandral asked in the manner of the very best truth-seekers.  I had had no idea my friend wanted a change of occupation but he was enjoying this way too much.  “It is imperative the Crown Prince speak with him.”

“Two days?” suggested a sturdy little maid with a dreamy look in her eye.

“Um, I think three,” argued a red-headed wench with the same dreaming stare.  “When he brought us those apples and showed us how to stuff them with spices and nuts.”

Well, that explained the looks in the girls’ eyes.  Loki brought delicacies such as these poor souls rarely got to taste.  I shook my head.  What was brother thinking to be making friends of the servants?  He had no sense of ‘rank’ or position, obviously, and when I was king I’d have to make sure he understood that servants were to ‘serve’ not ‘be served’.

“And the goose!” cried a dark-haired boy bending over the pit and scooping out ashes.  “Don’t forget the goose!”

“Silly, ’tweren’t no goose,” laughed another lad.  “Lucky said ’twas an oster-something from Midgard and near as big as he was it was, too!”

“Lucky?” I asked, frowning.  Who was this ‘Lucky’ person and what did he have to do with my brother?

“Yeah, yer brother, Lucky.  That’s his name ain’t it?”  The boy looked at me as though I were the idiot.

Cook bustled over and clapped a hand over his mouth.  “He means Prince Loki, Highness,” she chuckled.  “His Highness told the children titles were far too much a mouthful between friends and since he was, he hoped, a friend, first names would do as even Loki Odinson was a bit longish.”  She took a breath as the youngster wiggled free.

“When I grow up,” he stated proudly, “I’m going to be just like the Prince.”

“Why would you wish to be like Thor?” Sif queried as I preened.

“Not him,” chuckled the boy.  “I meant Lucky. “

“Wisht he was here now,” moaned a green-eyed freckle-faced youngster bending over another basin full of dirty pots and pans.  “Bet these here ‘ud be clean quicker’n you could blink.”

“My brother,” I said through gritted teeth, “does not do pots and pans.”

“Does too,” muttered Freckles.  “Did the other night after feastin’ when he come down for a bite ‘cause he’d eaten hardly nothing’ on account of his stomach.”

I winced.  Sif and Fandral, too, looked pained.  I looked at Cook who merely looked back, arms crossed over ample bosom.  “His stomach?”  Loki was never ill.  He had the constitution of a horse.

“That’s what His Highness said,” she replied but shook her head.  “But he’s a joker as you know and I’m thinkin’ he came down for a jaw-session and to see how the little ‘uns were doing.”  She sighed.  “Didn’t seem best pleased to see ‘em up so late, so lined ‘em up like little warriors and said they’d all do battle with the dirt.”

I frowned.  “How were they to do that?”

“He magic’d us,” explained the red-haired girl.  “Had us hold out our hands and did some wavey thing with his and ours got all greenie and then . . .” Her voice faded off as she stared at her hands.

“And then?  Go on,” Fandral prodded, his eyes almost as wide as the children’s.

“He had them wave their hands over the pots and the pit and mumble some words he whispered in their ears,” cook finished with what sounded suspiciously like a sob.

What was wrong with the woman?  Had Loki damaged her little charges somehow?  They didn’t look damaged physically.  Mentally might be another matter entirely, dazed as they all seemed.  

“And everything was clean!” whispered a blond leaning on a mop.

Freckles sighed.  “And then he made us go to bed.”

“Thank you for your time,” Fandral said with a hurried little bow and a worried glance at me as Sif gripped my elbow and tugged me from the room.  “I think we’ll just be going now.”

“It’s starting already and you not even crowned,” Sif hissed.

“What is?”  This was a side of my little brother I’d never seen before.  Was he so lonely he had to befriend children and servants?  Were we, my friends and I, not enough for him?

“This,” Sif snarled.  “He’s charming them all like the sneaking snake he is.”

“Perhaps,” Fandral suggested, diplomatically changing the subject.  “He might be in the library?”

“I looked there already, too,” I snapped.  “He wasn’t there.”

“Maybe he is now,” my friend insisted.  “Or maybe he was one of the books?  Did you look at all of them?”

We all stared and Lady Sif stepped up close and sniffed his breath.  “Have you been drinking?”

“Of course not,” Fandral protested, skipping back.  “It’s not even noon.  But Loki’s a shape-changer, isn’t he?  Who’s to say he couldn’t turn himself into a book – one of those large weighty tomes filled with big words and complicated phrases?”

“That would be the sort,” Volstagg agreed.  “Just one difficulty, though, unless Loki’s an even better sorcerer than any of us give him credit for.”

“What do you mean a ‘better sorcerer’?”  We all knew that – second only to Father – my little brother was the best sorcerer in Asgard.  Well, next to Mother but she wasn’t a ‘sorcerer’ because those were all males and usually not Aesir but Vanir or one of those lesser races.  This whole discussion was too confusing and I wanted it done before my head exploded.

“How would the lad turn himself back once he became a book?  He’d have no voice to utter the reversal spell, no hands to make the necessary gestures.  He’d be helpless and you know your brother would never put himself in that position.”

That was true enough, but we looked anyway and found, as I expected – nothing but books.  If Loki had changed, I doubted we’d know it anyway.  None of us spent much time there and we’d certainly never studied the bindings.  Fandral, as far as I knew, had never even cracked the spine of one.

 

“My son, Thor, where is your brother?”  Father peered at me out of his one good eye.

I swallowed – hard.  “I have not yet spoken to him,” I replied, wishing this interview – and the evening – was over.  I doubted my friends were waiting for me to arrive to start drinking.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait for me to arrive to start drinking.

Father frowned.  “How is this so?  Did I not tell you I wished to speak with him – urgently?”

“Urgently, sire?”  I took a calming breath though my stomach clenched and my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth.  Indeed, my mouth was so dry I couldn’t have spit even had I dared.  I looked around Father’s ‘office’ hoping for just a glimpse of something potable.  “No, sire, you said nothing about the need being ‘urgent’ and I just assumed . . . “

“Assumed?” Father roared.  “You assumed?  When I wish – no need - to speak to you and your brother, you can ‘assume’ it is urgent.”

 

“The stables,” Sif said on the second day.  “He changed into a horse once didn’t he?”

I nodded.  Loki had been a lovely little mare -  all gleaming black coat, long dainty legs and flowing mane and tail.

“As I recall,” Fandral said musingly.  “You braided his mane and tail with gold ribbon and flowers, told him what a sweet little mare he was and tried to ride him.”

“He threw you halfway across the ring,” Volstagg chortled.

“And then,” Sif reminded us, “when you tried again, he threw you over the fence.  You could have been killed.”

“He was a demon horse,” Hogun stated flatly.  “He bared his great teeth and gave us all the evil-eye.”

“Only because he thought we were laughing at him rather than Thor,” Fandral said.  I frowned and they all laughed at me again.

We hunted through the orchards after Volstagg remembered the apples the maids had mentioned.  I hoped the girls hadn’t meant Idunn’s.  Father would have Loki’s hide were that the case.  Though, I thought crossly, that would certainly solve the problem of Odin wanting to ‘talk’ to my little brother.    
  
“Loki’s not been here,” that lady said gently.  “He would not take without asking, I’m sure.”

“Not since the last time, anyway,” Sif muttered under her breath.

“Try his rooms again,” Fandral suggested wearily.  “Only let’s not break down the door this time.”

“Aye,” Volstagg put in.  “You know how he gets when he’s wrapped up in those studies of his.”  

Indeed I did.  When Loki was working, he’d forget to eat, forget to sleep, forget everything except what he was working on.  He’d work until he dropped in his tracks and then sleep for days.

We marched off to my brother’s wing of the palace and pounded on his door for what seemed hours.

“Prince Loki is away,” one of the guards said as he walked by.  “He left at dawn.”

“Excuse me,” Fandral asked when the fellow made no move to stop.  “Why are there guards?  I don’t recall His Highness needing guards before.”

“Some fool tried to break into the Prince’s chambers and so, for his safety, the All- Father asked us to start a patrol to watch for anything suspicious.”

I groaned and slumped down before the doors.  We’d been haunting the stables at dawn.  Why hadn’t we seen him come to fetch his horse?

Sif rested a hand on my shoulder.  “Perhaps he didn’t need to ‘fetch’ a horse,” she said.  “Perhaps he was a horse.”

I sighed.  Either my thoughts were more transparent than Loki said or I was starting to open my mouth without being aware of it.  Neither option bode well for my kingship – if Father still saw fit to crown me when I couldn’t even be trusted to give my brother a message.  Father was going to kill us both.

“We should ask Heimdall,” Volstagg said. “If Loki went by way of the Bifrost, Heimdall will know where he’s gone and we can find him there!”

“I cannot see him,” the Gatekeeper said when we trotted our horses out to the Observatory.  “He is hidden from my sight.”

It seemed no matter where we looked he was not to be found.  “He’s plotting something,” Sif snapped at the end of that second day.  “Why else hide himself even from Heimdall?”

Fandral had laughed.  “If he is, my Lady, you’d best watch out.  Loki loves you no better than you love him.”

 

“Thor, my son, my first-born,” Father said more wearily than I had ever heard him.  “Where is your brother?”

“I’m sorry, Father,” I said almost wishing I were not a grown man.  Things were so much easier when we were children.  Father’s lap was big enough to sit on and his arms wide enough to hold us when we were afraid.  Men don’t show fear and they certainly don’t cry.  “I seem to have missed him.” I was missing luncheon, too, but I doubted Father would care about that.

“How could you have misplaced him, my son?”  Father asked crossly.  “He was once wont to stay so close to your side you might have been joined at the hip.”

“But that was years ago,” I wanted to say.  “Now he’s grown so clever I can’t understand half of what he says.”  But, I refrained.  A future king can’t admit he feels stupid next to his younger brother – especially not to the man who’s going to be handing him the crown in a day or two.  “No, Father,” I said instead.  “Not misplaced but ‘missed’.  It seems whenever I try to speak with him, he’s gone, disappeared, vanished into the ether.”  Surely Father knew this, didn’t he?  Was he testing me or had he lost his mind?  I was beginning to feel I was losing mine.

 

Two days had passed and, I admitted, I was more than a little worried.   My coronation was but another day – maybe two - away.  I was fast losing track of time – one day sliding into the next like snow avalanching down the mountainside.  If we didn’t find him today  . . . I didn’t want to think about not finding him.  To be honest, I didn’t want to think at all.  It made my head hurt.  How did Loki bear it – thinking all the time like that?

“Mother’s chambers,” I said desperately.  “Maybe he’ll be there.”

“Doing what?” Sif snapped, scratching gouges in a tabletop with one of her knives.  “Stitching?  Weaving? Playing the lute?”  I stared.  We were all tired but none of the rest of us was snapping like bilgesnipe.  Maybe I could convince Father to put off the ceremony for a day or two - just until Loki turned up?

“Jealous much?” asked Fandral and Sif shot him a glare such as might kill a mere mortal.  

“Books,” Volstagg broke in.  “They could be discussing books.  Loki and your Mother both love reading and so does my Hildy.  Maybe they have a quiet little group going to discuss the latest literature?  Or perhaps,” he continued as Fandral frowned, “they might be comparing herbal remedies.”

“Books and remedies,” Sif snarled as I opened the door to Mother’s bower.  “Perhaps Loki should have been born a woman.”

Sudden silence greeted us and I felt my face grow hot.  What could I say?  Mother just looked at me and I wished I could drop through the floor.   I half-expected Fandral to agree and say something like ‘He’s certainly pretty enough for one.”  But my friend surprised me.

“And perhaps,” he hissed quietly, “you should have been a man.”

“Mother,” I began.  “I need to speak to Loki.  Father needs to speak to Loki.”

She glanced around.  “As you can see,” she said coolly.  “He is not here.”  She sighed and went back to her weaving as her ladies picked up their own stitching.  “For which,” Mother went on after a long uncomfortable moment, “you may all be thankful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I stammered backing toward the hall while my friends shouldered past me – the traitors.

“Thor,” Mother said quietly and I froze.  “Stay a moment.”  She nodded at the flock gathered around her.  “Ladies, if you will be so kind as to leave us for a moment or two?”  They gathered up their baskets and bustled out the door, some shooting me looks of pity and others looks that had me quaking in my boots.  If Mother didn’t flay me alive, those eyes promised, the ladies who owned them would.

“Mother . . .“

She stood up.  “Not another word, Thor Odinson, until I finish.   How dare you stand there mute while your friend makes mock of your brother.  Struck dumb with shock perhaps?  I noticed Fandral, Fandral of all people, found his tongue quickly enough.”

“Mother,” I began but again she cut me off at the knees.

“Never before- not since the day you learned to speak - have I known you to be at a loss for words and to think I find you speechless with nothing to say in defense of your own brother.”  Tears welled in her eyes.  “I am only glad Loki was not present to hear such cruel words and to realize his big brother would not defend him.”

“Well,” I muttered, “I doubt, were Loki here, he’d be in much need of ‘defending’.  He’s more than capable of verbal sparring with Sif or anybody else.  His tongue would cut her to ribbons.”  I threw myself into a chair which promptly collapsed beneath me, spoiling the moment entirely.  Mother’s lips twitched slightly as she fought – and won – over a smile.

“Oh, Thor, my darling, what are we going to do with you?”

“Make me king, I hope,” I said as I picked myself up from the floor.  “And the sooner the better because either I’m losing it or Father is.  Why this sudden urge to ‘talk’ to Loki?  He’s never felt such urgency before.”

Mother sighed.  “There is a reason for everything your Father does, Thor.  And he does not need to explain himself to you.  You’ll understand in time.”

 

We searched the marketplace from dawn until early evening that third day, thinking that perhaps Loki had gone in search of herbs and spices for his potions and lotions or gems and silks for the charms he made.  He’d brought Mother a bird once; perhaps he hunted a mate for it?  

The merchants we met remembered my brother from weeks, months, years – and in some cases centuries – past, but nothing more recent.  And every one of them remarked on how ‘clever’ a trader Loki was.  “Clever,” Sif insisted, “is just another way of saying he gets the best of a bargain.  They just can’t admit they’ve been cheated.”

Volstagg frowned.  “They don’t sound ‘cheated’,” he said gazing longingly at a baker’s stall.   “Oh, those buns do smell lovely” he said as he wandered over.   “The children are very fond of honeybuns.”

A jeweler remembered Loki trading protective spells for the caravans for beads of gems and precious metals, while a smith recalled my brother exchanging charms to ‘encourage wealth and good fortune’ for boxes and jars of metal, wood and fine porcelain.  

“A most beneficial elixir to aid the young lady’s digestion,” the apothecary offered holding out a small blue vial.  She took another look at Sif and reached to the shelf behind her.  “Perhaps a slightly larger dose would be more efficacious.”  Sif growled deep in her throat.

I pulled off my boots beside a fountain and stuck my tired feet in the water bubbling there.  Why would wandering through market stalls and cattle pens tire me more than battle?  I looked at my friends.  The only one of us who really seemed to be enjoying himself was Volstagg.

“I thought those buns were for the children,”Fandral commented, reaching for a sticky sweet treat.

“They are,” Volstagg mumbled through a mouthful as he raised one heavy bag in the air.  “This sack is for the children.  The one you just helped yourself to is for keeping us from starvation.”

We hunted high and low but found no Loki.  Fandral did find a sword with a gilded sheath.  Volstagg purchased a new axe and more honeybuns for his brood at home.  Sif found a pair of ash wood staves while Hogun haggled over a fine mace and a carpet for his woman.   Everyone found something except the thing I wanted most to find – my baby brother.

 

Desperation was fast becoming a boon companion – or at least a very familiar one.  When – I refused to entertain even the possibility of ‘if’ – I found my little brother, I’d  . . . I’d . . . I wasn’t sure what I’d do but hoped I could think of something fitting.  Drowning might have been an option but Loki would probably just turn into a fish again.  I could strangle him, I supposed, but Father would be angry if I did that before they had their ‘talk’.  Keeping my brother bound and gagged in the dungeon was looking good, too.  At least that way he’d always be where I could find him.

“Should we try his chambers again?” Fandral asked.  “He may have come back and if not, we could wait, possibly.”

“If not,” Volstagg grumbled, “I say we find a nice quiet tavern and drown our sorrows in a fine vintage – or a mediocre one whichever’s most plentiful.”

“Sorrows,” Sif snorted.  “I say we celebrate.”

There was still no sign of my brother or at least no answer to our knocking or my rattling of the latch.  The guards Father had posted to patrol the hallways glanced at us in confusion.  And, when I hefted Mjolnir, the thrice-damned guards actually glared.  “Come on, Thor, my lad,” Volstagg urged.  “A good stiff drink is what we all need.”

“Aye, indeed,” Fandral chimed in, swinging an arm about one young fellow’s shoulders.  “And, if any of you chaps are coming off duty in the next little while, why not join us?”

 

I sat hunched over a table in the Running Bilgesnipe, clutching a tankard of ale in one hand and my hammer in the other.  Empty bottles of mead lay scattered over the table like the bodies of my enemies after a rousing battle.

“Whoever thought of the name of this place,” Fandral slurred, “must’ve been drunker than we are.”  

I hiccupped in reply.

“Right,” Volstagg agreed.  “Bilgesnipe don’t run.  They stagger.  Fast, I admit, but it’s still no run.”

“Staggering Bilgesnipe,”  Fandral murmured.  “Does have a certain ring to it.”

“Father will never crown me,” I moaned and frowned as they all stared at me.  “He won’t crown me.  He will say I am unworthy.”

Sif shook her head.  “The All-Father would never call you unworthy,” she said.  “Even were you to go to him and explain that your sneaking, conniving, wretched and despicable brother has disappeared from Asgard completely.  And, even though you do sound like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, he would never call you unworthy.”

I stared and stuck out my tongue.  Surely dear Sif had had just as much to drink as the rest of us.  How could she get all those words out without stumbling over them?  “Not stuck.  See?”  My head drooped.  I had to find Loki; but not just yet.  I tossed the tankard onto the floor.  “Another,” I cried just before everything went black.

I woke – sort of- with my head held fast in a bucket – not of ale as I hoped but of water.  I held my breath.    

“Is he alive?” I heard though the voice sounded as though it were coming from the bottom of the lake.  “You did hit him awfully hard.”

“More to the point,” said another voice.  “Is he sober?”

“We shall see,” said yet another, giving my head a shake.  “Up you come.”

Released at last, I stood, shaking my head and watching the water dripping onto the floor.

“What hit me?” I asked, feeling the back of my head where a knot the size of my fist rested quietly.  The knot may have been quiet but the rest of my head certainly wasn’t.  “Were we in a battle?  Did we win?”

Sif sighed, gesturing toward the empty bottles.  “Oh yes, Thor.  You slew dozens all by yourself.  Never have I seen such a battle.  Your Father should be proud.”

“Well,” Fandral said rising from his chair.  “He can stand without falling over.”  He glanced at our fellow drinkers scattered about the floor like nine-pins.   “Unlike some of the rest of us,” he added with a puzzled frown.  “How many of your brother’s guards did we bring along?”  

I looked around.  “All of them?”  Oh, never mind a coronation.  Father was going to kill me.

 

By dawn Hogun was on his way to Vanaheim to ask Lord Freyr and Lady Freya if Loki was or had been or possibly was soon to be there.  Sif and Fandral were leaving for Alfheim to search for him there.   “Never fear,” Fandral promised.  “We should be back in plenty of time for the ceremony tomorrow.”  He glanced at the sky where the sun was just starting to peer over the horizon and sighed.  “Or, rather, we’ll be back today.  If you should happen to find that brother of yours,” he went on as he mounted his horse, “I suggest you sit on him until your Father’s had his little ‘chat’.”

Volstagg had had enough and was going home to his wife and children.  “Fond as I am of you, Thor, my lad,” my rotund friend said, “and much as I respect and admire your brother, I’m afraid I’m done.  I haven’t seen my Hildy in two whole days, except for that moment in your Mother’s, and that’s been much too long.  You’ll have to find him without me.”

“You respect and admire Loki?” I asked, disbelieving.  This was the first I’d heard of that.  “Since when?”

Volstagg shrugged.  “I’ve always respected his brain, lad,” he said gruffly.  “Besides which, Hildy’s very fond of him.  And you do have to admire the way he sticks to a thing once he’s put his mind to it.  But watch yourself, lad.  Loki’s not one you’d ever want to cross – he doesn’t forgive nor does he forget.  That’s the bad thing about having a mind like a steel trap – you can’t forget – not the good nor the bad – even when you want to.”

Well, that just gave me something else to worry about and Norns knew I was no good at that at all.  Most often, I let Loki do the worrying for both of us.  Thinking – or rather plotting – had never been my strong suit.  I was a man of action and now I had to do his job and mine.  It wasn’t fair.

 

I stumbled up the stairs to Loki’s room alone.   If I didn’t find him there this time, I was going straight to Father and tell him his second son had vanished so completely even Heimdall couldn’t find him.  Father would be beyond angry but what was I to do?  I couldn’t keep making up feeble excuses just to keep Loki out of trouble.  I had to think of my own skin, too.

On second thought, I thought, maybe I’d go to Mother and tell her instead.  She’d know how to break the news to Father and he’d never dream of killing her.

And so it was, I found myself outside his chambers, nodding at the few guards who’d remained to stride through the hallways.  I took a deep breath and pushed open his door only to hear a sharp “What do you want?”  He didn’t even bother looking up as I came in.

“Loki,” I said as I spied him sitting at his desk.  “Where have you been?”

He waved his hand over the pile of oddities and papers on his desk.  “Working, as you can see.”

I nodded.  “Oh, of course – working.  But working on what?”  Truthfully, though. I couldn’t see any sign of ‘working’. I saw a pile of yellowish rocks, a few glass and metal canisters of dwarven make, some ice-like stuff dripping onto the floor until he noticed and put a stop to that, but nothing that indicated ‘work’.

I threw myself onto his bed.  The place reeked of smoke and sulfur.  “You’ve been playing with Midgardian explosives again, haven’t you?” I cried, grabbing at that clue with both hands.  I sat up straight, excitement coursing through my veins.  “Fireworks, Loki?”  I could kiss him!  Little brother knew how much I loved watching the colors flare in the sky.  It was like a spectacular funeral only nobody had to die.  “Will there be fireworks for my coronation?”  If he said ‘yes’, I would kiss him.

He looked over at me and smiled.  “Indeed,” he said positively smirking.  “If you will leave me to my work, there shall be such fireworks as Asgard has not seen in a thousand years or more.”

I grinned.  “Wonderful!”  I jumped up and went to his side.  “Let me see!”

He twisted around in his chair, arms raised to block my view.  “Thor.”

“Loki,” I barely kept myself from whining.  “Just a little look?  Please?”

“Oh, very well, if you must spoil half the surprise,” he muttered but he sounded pleased.

I glanced at his papers.  “Oh, Loki,” I could barely breathe.  “That’s me holding Mjolnir?”  He nodded.  “And Father holding Gungnor out to me?”  The whole ceremony was there on his sketchpad in colors of earth and flame, sea and sky.  “Can you truly do this?”

He frowned.  “Do you doubt it?  Have I ever promised, brother, and failed in my oath?”  I shook my head.  “Then do you dare doubt me now?”  His eyes narrowed.  “Well?  Do you doubt my power, my ability or my intent?”

“Neither,” I protested.  “It’s just so much.  It’s beautiful but . . .”  I was afraid there was a trick in there somewhere.   Something like this was almost too good to be true.  

“But?” my brother queried ominously.  “Care to elaborate, brother?”

I had to think fast but the wheels inside my head seemed jammed and I could only stand there frozen waiting for him to wave his fingers and send me somewhere I didn’t want to be – like Father’s study.  “Oh,” I blurted out.  “Father wanted to see you!”

He looked up, startled, and I could see the question in his eyes.  Father may have Loki sitting in on Council meetings and trade negotiations, but he rarely called either of us in for ‘private chats’.  And, when he did, we were usually in trouble.  “Not to worry, little brother,” I answered.  “It’s something to do with the coronation no doubt.  Nothing you need to worry about – most like he would wish you to help Mother with the seating arrangements for the feasting since you’re so familiar with . . .” I swallowed, losing my train of thought as he gave me his sweetest smile.  

“Oh, of course,” he positively simpered.  “Because I have so little else to do and I am so very clever at putting just the right people together to encourage lively conversation.  Do tell Father I shall be happy to assist.”  He stopped speaking and frowned.  

“Or,” I said quickly.   “Mayhap it’s good news.  Perhaps Father has found a bride for you – a lady of noble birth, charm and wit equal to your own?”

He growled and bared his teeth.   “Bartered like a horse or a hunting dog, I suppose?  I’ve no need of a wife at present, brother.  Besides, should not you be the first to wed?  You are the elder after all.”

“But I am to be king and shall choose my own bride,” I countered, ducking behind his bed as he flung a ball of greenish light at my head.    

“Oh, shall you, indeed?” he laughed.  “Should I not have the same opportunity?”

I crept out from behind the bed.  “Second sons and daughters,” I said grandly, keeping my eye on him and edging toward the door.  “Make political alliances.”

He shook his head.  “You know what Aesir think of men who practice magic – with one very notable exception.  Where might Father find a noble lady willing to partner with a sorcerer?”

I sighed.  He wasn’t taking this quite like I’d hoped.  “Vanaheim," I suggested.  "Alfheim?  Magic is prized in both those realms, Loki.”  He was still frowning.   I hurried from the room before he decided to throw something more at me.  I’d given him Father’s message; if he decided not to attend . . .  I turned back.  “I could be wrong, brother,” I said.

He arched a brow.  “Oh?  You could be wrong?  How so?”

I nodded.  “He said it was urgent, Loki, and I’m not certain but I doubt seating arrangements are that vital.”  

My brother sighed.  “You never know, Thor.  Place Ambassador D’Lorean next Minister Horvath or Lady Fanella anywhere within clawing distance of Lord Silarion and you might see how ‘vital’ such arrangements can be.”  He glanced down at his sketches.   “When did he wish to see me?”

“Immediately,” I answered.  “And I’ve been looking for you almost three days.  We were worried.”  

“Three days?” he asked, frowning.

“Indeed, brother,” I said.  “Father was so worried when he found your door had been broken, he posted those guards outside in the hall.”

“My door was broken?”  Loki asked with a glance at the very solid door as he ran a hand through his hair.  “I never noticed.”   He shook his head.  “How could I not have noticed?”

“Distracted by your plans no doubt,” I suggested pulling him out of his chair.  “But Father won’t be so go quickly and see what he wants.  I’ll stay and guard my present.”

He frowned.  “Dare I trust you, brother?  One little spark and your ‘fireworks’ may come early.”

“I swear,” I said.  “I won’t touch a thing while you’re gone.”  I sighed.  “I won’t even peek at anything other than what you’ve shown me.”

“See that you don’t,” brother warned.  “The material in those canisters is highly volatile and I’d hate to be scraping a Thor pudding off the ceiling.”

I shuddered and edged away from his desk as he hurried toward the door.

I could hear him chuckling as he slammed the door on his way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's coronation goes south

I sat in The Welcome Wyvern, nursing a sour head and an equally sour brew. Where did they find the grain for this stuff, anyway? Never had I tasted anything so awful – not since Loki had tried his hand at brewing and nearly poisoned half the brewery staff. They’d locked him out of the malt-house after that little episode. I took another swallow and decided when I was king I would pronounce an edict and bar all but the rabble and riff-raff from this place.

Fandral, Sif and Hogun sat opposite me, barely touching their own drinks. Apparently, all three of them were wiser than I was. “You found him,” Sif guessed and I nodded.

“Then why look so glum?” Fandral asked, patting the barmaid on the rump as she passed and giving her a wink   “You found him; all should be well. What did your Father wish to speak to him about? “

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “He never came back.”

“Never came back?” Fandral sighed. “Thor, I told you to sit on him!”

“I know,” I snapped, gripping my aching head with both hands. “I sent him to Father as ordered and he never returned.” I groaned. “I should have gone with him. I see that now.” Fandral and the others looked puzzled.   “Whatever Father told him – whatever he said – must’ve upset Loki horribly.”

“Nonsense, Thor,” Sif said, glaring daggers at another pretty barmaid. “Nothing upsets your brother for all know his heart is ice.”

“That is not so,” I argued. “Loki’s not a ‘warm’ person, true, but he’s hardly ‘ice’.”

“He’s cool,” Fandral said, nodding. “Logical, calculating, diplomatic, intelligent . . .”

“Devious,” Sif snapped. “Hardly the paragon you make him out to be.”

Hogun shook his head. “When are wyverns ever ‘welcome’? They raid sheep and cattle pens and carry off small children. You Aesir make no sense.”

“Makes no less sense than the Galloping Gryphon in Alfheim’s capital,” Fandral stated bluntly. “And a great deal more than The Blushing Mermaid. Everyone knows those mermaids on Vanaheim do not blush – never have and they never will.” He glanced around. “Where’s Volstagg? He should be here celebrating with us.”

“Home,” I griped, “with the wife and all the little Volstaggs.”

Sif rose to her feet – always the steadiest and most sober of the lot of us. “Speaking of ‘home’, Thor, isn’t it about time for us to be leaving for the coronation?” she asked, slamming down her tankard. “It is a bit of a walk, after all and I’d rather we weren’t late. You know how people get when you arrive after the party’s started.”

I sighed. “They can hardly start without me,” I muttered. There’d be no lovely fireworks to celebrate my coronation – unless Loki’d managed to reappear after I left his chambers – and Father hadn’t upset him so much he couldn’t bear to finish them. “But yes, I suppose we must.”

 

I sauntered into the Great Hall, grinning and shouting for another cup of wine as I tossed my goblet into the fire where the last dregs hissed and sputtered. This was much better than the watered-down piss that passed for drink in the Wyvern. I doubted the place would survive long without the army or any of the lesser nobility or foreign diplomats as customers. I could hardly say I was sorry. Indeed, I would be glad to be rid of the reminder. Why had I gone there to drink when the stuff here in the castle was so much better? The maids were pretty but surely that wasn’t reason enough to sit there and drink such swill. Was it?

I shook off the thought. Soon I would be King of Asgard and it felt good. I would lead my armies into glorious battle just as Father had done so long ago - before he got so old and tired - and we would win such victories as would be sung of for ages. Yes, it would be good to be the king.

My little brother slipped into place beside me almost as though he’d been waiting for me to arrive and he probably had. I could almost feel the disapproval rolling off him.   So I was a bit late and maybe a little drunk? So what? This was my day and if I wanted a drink or two (or three) to celebrate with friends, what was it to him?   Maybe he had a tiny bit of reason but I thought not. Just because Father had had us rehearse walking that path together for days before Loki had disappeared and given us no explanation at all? Loki’d left me alone in his room watching sulfur smolder and ice melt and never come back at all to finish the fireworks he’d promised. Soon Father would crown me King of Asgard and I could do what I wanted. I smiled to myself already imagining the battles I’d fight and the glory I’d win.

“Nervous, brother?” he asked.   I could almost see the smirk and I frowned. It would probably please him if I said ‘yes’, but I why should I admit any such thing just so he could feel superior? I was the elder; I should be feeling superior so why wasn’t I?

“Nervous? Me?” I chuckled, just to prove I wasn’t. “When have you ever known me to be nervous?”

“Well,” he replied after just a moment’s thought – almost as though he had planned this whole conversation and knowing him, he’d probably rehearsed most of it several times. Loki never just ‘said’ anything. Always there were layers and under-currents to his words until a man could get lost trying to figure out what he meant. “There was that time in Nornheim.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, smirking again and I frowned.  

“That wasn’t nerves, brother,” I protested. “That was the rage of battle.”   I remembered it well – the screams of the golbeasts and shouts of the enemy, the blood coating Mjolnir, my friends battling at my side. It had been glorious! He looked doubtful so I hastened to explain. “How else could I have fought us clear of a hundred warriors and brought us out alive?”  I remembered, too, the cheers and praises heaped upon me when we returned.

Loki, however, seemed to remember it differently. “As I recall,” he said with a little frown. “It was I who veiled us in a cloud of smoke to cover our escape.”

As I remembered it, someone or something had lit the brush afire, smoke making the enemy cough and gasp but the wind had been blowing it away from us. I laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well,” I said grinning. “Some of us do battle and some just do tricks.” It wasn’t as though it took much in the way of training or skill to create a cloud of smoke, if that was what he’d done, or an army of clones after all and standing on a hill at the back of everything hardly put him at any risk, unlike the rest of us.

I saw a servant approaching with more wine and heaved a sigh of relief. My thirst, despite all I’d had to drink earlier, was prodigious, and, though I’d never admit it to him – or anybody else – I was a tiny bit uneasy. But, before I could even reach for it, Loki waved his hand. The servant gasped, tipping the tray and spilling serpents onto the floor. I wasn’t in the mood for Loki’s pranks but I tried to laugh it off. “Loki, that was a waste of good wine,” I said with a very tiny laugh.

He shrugged. “Just a bit of fun,” he said, waving the serpents away, but underneath I could hear ‘How’s that for tricks?’ Or, what was even worse, the thought that maybe he thought I’d had more than enough to drink already. Just because he hardly touched the stuff didn’t mean we all had to abstain. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a glorious day after all.

Then one of Father’s guards approached with the helmet I was to wear and Loki pursed his lips. “Oooh, nice feathers,” he said. I was sure he meant it as a joke since his head-piece was so much more extravagant than my simple one. I shook my head. Where were some of these thoughts coming from?

“Do you really want to start that again, ‘cow’?” I asked. I flinched inwardly, waiting for the lecture to begin again. Would this be the second or the third time? ‘These are *not* the horns of a ‘cow’, brother,’ he would say, ‘but rather those of an ‘oryx’ - an antelope inhabiting the savannahs of Africa and the Arabian Peninsula – on Midgard, in case you’ve forgotten.’ I had laughed the first time he’d said it and said everyone knew an onyx was a black gem like the one Horvath wore in his ring.   Loki had just looked at me as though the words coming out of my mouth were in a foreign tongue and not even translatable into All-Speak . It was much later that I finally discovered why he’d looked at me that way as he never saw fit to correct me, leaving it to me to discover my error in my own time after I’d made a fool of myself in front of Father and Mother.

“I was being sincere,” he said. No wonder people named him Lie-smith – he really was damned good at it.

“You are incapable of being sincere,” I snapped back.

For just a moment I saw him stiffen and too late I remembered what Volstagg had said about not making Loki angry. Then he took a breath and turned to face me.

“I have waited for this day as long as you have,” he said and looked me straight in the eye as he did it. “You’re my brother and my friend.” I’d heard liars couldn’t look you in the eye, but then brother was better at it than most. “I admit,” he said slowly. “Sometimes I’m envious. “

Sif had many times said Loki was jealous but I had never believed it. Though, thinking back, maybe I should have. He had reason, after all, to be jealous. I was bigger and stronger; I was a better warrior. Hel, with Mjolnir, I was damn near invincible.  I had friends from among the noblest houses in all the Nine Realms. Fandral was heir to a fine estate and a favorite with the ladies – though his brothers were a trifle ‘odd’. Hogun was a chief in his own right on Vanaheim. Volstagg had been a Master of Arms in Father’s army before he wed and started breeding all those little Volstaggs. Sif was the younger daughter of one of Father’s foremost advisors. And, I was going to be king. Loki, apparently, had to find his friends in kitchen, stables and marketplace. Admittedly, Loki was damn good with his bow and throwing knives and his magic was considerable. But these weren’t the weapons the men of Asgard wielded; these were women’s wiles.

“But never doubt that I love you,” he said at last.

For a long moment, I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Unfortunately for me, however, Loki was looking like he expected some sort of response, so I clasped him about the neck and gave him my thanks.

Instead of a graceful acknowledgement befitting princes and brothers, he grinned. “Now give us a kiss.”

Now that was just embarrassing. Of course I loved him, but not like that. “Loki,” I chided, shaking my head and hoping nobody’d heard him. “Stop that.” He grinned again and turned his head. “Seriously, how do I look?” I asked finally, for lack of anything better to say.

He sighed, disappointed, I supposed that I hadn’t reacted to his little joke as he hoped. “Like a king.” I almost breathed a sigh of relief but, again, the way he said it made me wonder what he really meant. He slipped back into position and took a deep breath. “It’s time.”

All the while we spoke, though, I was thinking how very regal my baby brother looked – much more so than I did – and wondering if half the people gathered here that day might not know which of us was being crowned. Maybe I had best walk down that aisle alone, I thought, glancing sideways at him standing there so calm and proud.

“You go on ahead,” I said. He looked about to protest but I shook my head. “Go on,” I insisted. “I’ll be along shortly.” I waved him away. “I don’t need you to hold my hand, brother.

He turned to leave, then shook himself like a cat, made a small sign and vanished in a blur of green and gold light. Trust Loki to make a memorable exit, I thought, wondering what he might have pulled had we walked down that aisle together.

I found myself pacing the floor. “It’s all right to be nervous,” Mother said quietly from behind the same damn pillar where Loki’d been lurking.

“Why does everyone keep asking if I’m nervous?” I growled. “I am not nervous. I’m rehearsing.”

“Oh, of course,” Mother said smiling. “My mistake. However, if you were nervous, it would be quite understandable. It’s not every day a king is crowned.”  She glanced around and frowned. “Where is your brother, Thor?” She shook her head. “It’s not like him to be late. Ah, well.” She adjusted my armor slightly, more for something to do than any real need. “I suppose it would be best not to keep your Father waiting. He’s bound to be upset enough that your brother’s not with you without you being late, too. ”

What was this this – a coronation or a hand-fasting? “But why should he be upset?” I almost asked as she brushed another fleck of imaginary dust from my armor and turned to go as the trumpets blared a warning.

 

The people cheered and clapped, all eyes on me, as I strode down the aisle, Mjolnir raised high above my head. I tossed her once and grinned as Sif, standing a step below my brother, shook her head. I smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, reveling in their pride and love. I could see Loki whisper to Mother and she whispered something back. Loki raised one hand to his brow and shook his head as Mother frowned.

I knelt before my Father, took off my helmet and set Mjolnir down. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mother and gave her a wink. She smiled and shook her head.   For someone who claimed to have been waiting for this day as long as I had, Loki looked bored or maybe still angry. Had I been a fool to send him away like that?

Crash! Grungir came down hard. “Thor, Odinson, my heir, my firstborn, so long entrusted with the mighty hammer, Mjolnir, forged in the heart of a dying star. Its power has no equal – as a weapon to destroy or as a tool to build. It is a fit companion for a king.” Father’s words were like to put me to sleep if he kept on. I’d always found Loki so much easier to listen to – even if I couldn’t understand him for all the fancy words and phrases. “I have defended Asgard and the lives of the innocent across the Nine Realms and I grow weary.” I grew weary, too, and lost track of what he was saying as I watched Mother and Loki out of the corner of my eye. Loki still looked angry and even Mother looked mildly put out. “And now it is time,” Father droned on.

‘Yes,’ I thought. ‘It certainly is time.’ I was ready to wield the scepter as king and the hammer as warlord. Ready? Valhalla and the Norns knew I was eager for it.

“Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?”

“I swear,” I said, striving not to sound too bored by ritual. Loki loved ritual and ceremony. He should be in Valhalla taking part in this not looking like he’d rather be anywhere other than here.  And then I remembered he wasn’t taking part as we’d planned. I’d sent him away to be an observer just like the rest of the crowd. No wonder he was cross.

“Do you swear to preserve the peace?”

“I swear,” I repeated, trying for solemnity but it was damned hard when I was itching for battle.

“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge yourself only to the good of the Realm?”

I raised Mjolnir high and shouted the oath.

“Then on this day, I Odin All-Father, proclaim you . . .” He paused and I waited for the word “King” which never came. “Frost Giants,” did instead -two words that completely ruined my coronation. Damn.

People rushed for the doors. I watched Loki pull Mother behind him and start for the stairs. Where was he going? I shook my head and started to run, sure Loki would appear when he was ready.

 

We entered the Weapons Vault – Father and I – to find Loki already there, kneeling and muttering over the dead, amid such a scene as I could not have imagined. I saw two dead guards, several equally dead giants and the Casket of Ancient Winters laying on its side halfway down the hallway. Father made a sign and two of his guards hurried to pick it up and restore it to its place.

“The Jotuns must pay for what they’ve done,” I said.

“They have paid – with their lives. The Destroyer did its work, the Casket is safe and all is well,” Father replied calmly as Loki rose and stepped over to one side out of the way.

“All is well?” I said hardly able to believe what I heard. Was this the warrior who’d defeated the Frost Giants all those years ago? “They broke into the Weapons Vault. If the Frost Giants had stolen even one of these relics . . .”

“They didn’t.”

“I want to know why,” I cried.  Maybe they hadn’t gotten away with it but it looked damn close to me.

“I have a truce with Laufey, king of the Jotuns,” Father answered.

“He just broke your truce,” I riposted. “They know you are vulnerable.”

“What action would you take?” Father asked – still far too calmly for my taste. Why wasn’t he angrier? And why wouldn’t Loki say something – anything? He’d been raised on the same stories of Jotun treachery I had. Surely he could see what needed to be done.

“March into Jotunheim as you once did,” I suggested. “Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they never dare cross our borders again.”

“You’re thinking like a warrior, not a king,” Father said.

“This was an act of war!” I was practically screaming now. There was Loki, still standing off to the side as though trying to ignore the whole argument. Why wouldn’t he say something? He could come in on my side and convince Father we should attack. Surely Father would listen to both of us. Or was he still angry with me for shutting him out? I’d had no damned idea it meant that much to him and if it had, why hadn’t he said something at the time?

“It was the act of only a few,” Father said. “It was doomed to fail.”

“Look how far they got!” I was shouting and couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“We will find the breach in our defenses and it will be sealed,” Father finished – as though the argument itself was done.

“As king of Asgard,” I went on as though I hadn’t heard him. Oh, that got a reaction out of my little brother.

“But you’re not king,” Father finally snapped. “Not yet.”

 

Oh cruel jest! My coronation cancelled; the feasting and revelry abandoned – even the fireworks left unlit. I wanted to weep. No – I wanted to hit something. I wanted to take Mjolnir and smash every last Frost Giant on Jotunheim. Instead, I merely shoved servants out of the way and upended the banquet tables – not very kingly behavior admittedly but what else was I to do?

“Redecorating are we?” Sif asked as she and the Warriors Three entered the hall.

Volstagg stared around in horror. “What’s this?”

“I told you they had cancelled,” Hogun said glumly.

“We thought you were just being your normal cheery self,” Fandral joked. I didn’t feel like joking.

“All this food, so innocent, just cast to the ground,” Volstagg mourned as I sat down for a good sulk. “It breaks the heart.”

And then Loki slipped up behind me. Oh how he must be enjoying this.

“It’s unwise to be in my company right now, brother,” I said.

“Who said I was wise?” Loki asked. He shrugged. “And if they did, they lied.”

I almost laughed at that. “This was to be my day of triumph,” I said angrily instead.

“It’ll come,” Loki said calmly, “in time.” It would come in time? How dare he patronize me! “If it’s any consolation, you may be right – about the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything. If they found a way once, who’s to say they won’t again? But Father may be right as well.” I stared. How could he take both sides? He wasn’t a Hel-be-damned lawyer – at least not yet. Hopefully, not ever. He was already too good at twisting my words to make a noose.  Either he was with me or he was with Father. “But there’s nothing you can do without defying Father.”

“Yes, there is,” I said sharply. Who was he to tell me what I could or could not do?

Loki flinched back. “Oh, no,” he said. “Stop right there. I know that look.”

So he did but when had his disapproval ever stopped me before? “It’s the only way to ensure the safety of our borders,” I said determined to be reasonable in the face of his unreason.

“Thor,” he protested. “It’s madness!”

“Madness?” queried Volstagg, heaping a plate. “What sort of madness?”

“It’s nothing,” brother said hurriedly. “Thor was just making a jest.”

“The safety of our realm is no jest,” I argued. “My friends,” I stated boldly but watching Loki out of the corner of my eye. “We’re going to Jotunheim!” If he spoke against it, could he sway them? I thought not but couldn’t be entirely sure. Loki’s silver-tongue had convinced others to defy me on occasion.

“What?” Fandral yelped, obviously hoping this was a jest, as Loki said.

“Thor,” Sif put in. “Of all the rules of Asgard, this is the one you must not break.”

Fandral looked almost ill. “This isn’t like a little jaunt to Earth, where you can summon a little lightning and thunder and the natives will worship you as a god!” He looked around for support. “This is Jotunheim!”

“If the Frost Giants don’t kill you,” Volstagg muttered. “Your Father will.”

“My Father,” I said proudly, “fought his way into Jotunheim, defeated their army and took their Casket. We’ll just be looking for answers.”

“It is forbidden,” Sif said again. I could see Loki nodding, encouraging this rebellion.

“My friends, have you forgotten all we have done together?” I strode, laughing, toward the group, stopping by Fandral. He would be the easiest to convince, I was sure. “Who was it brought you into the sweet embrace of the most exotic maidens in all of Yggdrasil?”

“You helped a little,” he admitted as I’d known he would.

“And who led you into the most glorious of battles?” I asked Hogun.

“You did,” he said.

“And the delicacies so succulent you thought you’d died and gone to Valhalla?

“You did,” Volstagg agreed, sandwich halfway to his mouth.

“And who was it convinced everyone that a young maiden could be one of the fiercest warriors in Asgard?”

“I did,” said Sif bluntly.

“Right,” I said. “But I supported you. My friends, trust me now! We must do this! Surely you’ll not let my brother and I take all the glory?”

“What?” Loki practically squeaked. I’d never heard him so nervous. “Thor, are you mad?”

“You are going with me, aren’t you?” Despite all his protests, I knew he’d come with us as he always had. Many were the times there’d been when he’d railed against a quest but in the end he’d always gone along. He’d come back injured – bloody and broken – more than once, but he always followed where I led.

He shook his head. “No, brother,” he said, head hanging as though ashamed of his weakness. “Not this time.”

I could see doubt clouding the others and clenched my fists.   Was he going to spoil everything with his stubbornness? “Are you afraid?” I snarled. “Will you prove craven now – when I need you most?”

“Need me?” He laughed a little hysterically. “You need me?” I nodded. “Why?” he asked standing to rise above me on the stair, green eyes blazing. “Why would you need me? What use could I possibly be in your quest for ‘glory’ on Jotunheim – me with my ‘tricks’?” He waited for an answer I couldn’t give. Oh how right Volstagg had been. Loki never forgot. “I thought so,” he snapped. “You would defy Father, march into Jotunheim, and start a war? And you expect all of us to go merrily along like good little sheep?”

“We’re just going for answers,” I protested.

“Answers?” he asked. “Then why talk of ‘glory’? Which is it, Thor – glory or answers? If answers, you certainly don’t need all of us,” he said indicating himself and my friends. “You go alone and unarmed as . . .” He paused a moment, seeming lost in thought, then went on. “Go alone and unarmed as an ambassador – not a warrior.”

Did he think me mad? I should go alone and unarmed into Jotunheim? Only a fool would do something like that. “Answers first,” I shot back. “And if none are forthcoming, then glorious battle.” I could see the others nodding and breathed a small sigh of relief.

“And what if Laufey has no answers,” Loki said softly. “What if he is as blind to the doings of a small band of his people as Father is to you here?”

“Father is not blind,” I shouted. “No king deserving of the title should be blind to the doings of his people.”

Loki glanced about and shrugged. “Then where is he? Where are his guards come to haul us before him – in chains, if need be – for daring to defy him?”

“Will you come,” I snapped. “Yes or no, Loki, a simple answer is all I require – not some long-winded speech.”

“And I have given it,” he said, dropping back down on the stair. “No, I will not.”

“You coward,” I hissed, bending close so only he could hear.

He glanced up at me and smiled. “Indeed,” he said agreeably, “if it suits you to believe so. Or believe I play the part of the dutiful son trying to save his prodigal brother from his own folly.”

“It is not folly,” I roared, clutching his collar tight as I lifted him bodily off the stair. “It is for the safety of the realm. Please, Loki.” I was near weeping and would never be able to explain why if my friends should see. I wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled.

“No,” he gasped, breathless, as he pried my hands loose. “I cannot, Thor. Go, if you must, but I cannot.”

I looked around at my friends’ doubtful faces.

“I’ll go,” Volstagg said, with an odd glance at my brother. Loki sighed and shook himself, knowing his arguments had failed.

” Fandral stepped forward smartly.   “And I.”

“And I,” Hogun agreed. “The Warriors Three fight together.” Well, so had Loki and I until now. Had my off-hand remark about his part in our previous battles set him to prove we couldn’t do this without him? If that was the case, we’d soon prove him wrong.

“I fear we will live to regret this,” Sif said, with a slight bow.

“If we’re lucky,” Volstagg grumbled, with yet another glance at Loki’s pale face. What did he hope to see there? Some hint, perhaps, that Loki had merely been testing my resolve?

“You will say nothing to Father,” I ordered.

Loki nodded. “I will say no word to our Father as to your going.”

“Swear,” I insisted.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Oh, very well, I swear I will speak no word of this to Father.”

“I wish you would come, Loki, but I will not beg.”

Loki smiled sadly. “I could hardly expect you to,” he said quietly, glancing after my friends as they left the hall. “How could they respect you if they saw you begging me to come along? Was it not I who used to beg for that privilege?”

“And did I ever deny you?” I asked, wondering where he was going with these reminiscences. It was hardly like my coolly logical little brother to take a stroll down memory lane without purpose.

Loki shook his head and dusted off his garments, fastidious as always. “No, you did not. Although,” he said with a little grin, “you must admit it might have been better for me on occasion if you had.”

 

My warhorse was restive as we rode out across the rainbow bridge – Sif, the Warriors Three and me.  Horse had been damn near impossible to find at first – not in his usual stall but cozied up to Father’s eight-legged monster as though they shared secrets. Other horses usually stayed away from Sleipnir, frightened of his temper and those huge hooves.  Horse had never been afraid – he wouldn’t be my Horse if he was – but rather properly respectful. Now, though, he acted like they were best friends and he couldn’t bear to be parted.

I had hoped Loki might change his mind and come along though Sif certainly seemed glad he hadn’t. More and more I wondered what Loki might have done to cause such animosity but I wasn’t about to ask.

The Gatekeeper looked appropriately solemn as we strode up to the Observatory. Oh, how I wished Loki was here with his silver-tongue. He could convince Heimdall to let us pass, but my stubborn little brother refused to ‘defy Father’. As though he really hoped that might curry favor? It was beyond foolish of him. Father had always favored me – just as Mother always favored Loki.

I would have to use my authority as the future king of Asgard and hope Heimdall didn’t realize how far off that might be.

“Good Heimdall,” I began and frowned as he looked around almost as though searching for something – or someone. “May we pass?”  

“Never, before this day, has an enemy slipped my watch,” He said gravely. “I wish to know how that happened.”

“Then tell no one where we’ve gone until we return,” I said, stumbling slightly when the unruly white beast I’d ridden nudged me in the back. “Go home,” I hissed. “You can’t come with us.”

Horse tossed his head and kept on walking. Fandral tried and failed to smother a laugh. “Stubborn creature, isn’t he?”

“Go home,” I said again, grabbing the reins and striving to turn the beast. Horse balked and bared his teeth. “Hel take you, you miserable animal,” I snarled. “Will you obey me or no?”

Horse shook his head and planted one huge hoof on my foot.

“Go home, you wretched creature,” I groaned. “Horses weren’t made to travel the Bifrost.” I glanced around. “Tell him, Heimdall.”

The Gatekeeper sighed. “It has been done, in the past, but not easily.” He looked at Horse. “Do you understand? Your kind cannot easily travel these ways.” My horse was smart, but surely Heimdall didn’t actually believe he understood what was being said.

Horse nodded and nudged me again. Fists planted on my hips, I shook my head and ordered him back to the stables.  I felt a bit guilty at disappointing the poor animal but then he flung up his head and reared screaming, huge hooves pawing the air. For a long moment, I was actually afraid he might trample one of us in his anger. But then, the stubborn beast marched up to the podium, glancing over his shoulder at me as though to say “Well, are you coming or not?”

“He really is quite stubborn,” Sif said with a smile.

“Protective bastard,” Fandral said, smirking. Horse bared his teeth in a grin as we all remounted.

“Be warned,” Heimdall said. “I will honor my sworn oath to protect this realm as Gatekeeper. If your return threatens Asgard, Bifrost will remain closed to you and you will be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim.”

I could hear Volstagg swallow. “Couldn’t you just leave the bridge open?” he asked.

“To leave the Bridge open would unleash the full power of the Bifrost,” Heimdall said. “It would destroy Jotunheim with you upon it.”

“I have no plans to die this day,” I said and felt Horse shrug beneath me. He had no plans to die either, he seemed to say, but, if we died in glorious battle we’d both be for Valhalla. I almost laughed.

“None do,” Heimdall said as he plunged his sword into the mechanism that started the Observatory spinning and the Bridge opening.

 

 

Heimdall had been right – it was damned cold here and the ledge we’d landed on seemed none too stable. Speaking of stable, I could see the other horses seemed to wish they were in theirs. Horse, however seemed perfectly at ease.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Hogun said glumly. I had the sinking feeling he might be right.

“Let’s move,” I said, determined to lead.

“Where are they?” Sif asked quietly.

“Hiding,” I answered. “Like the cowards they are.”

Everywhere we walked, ice splintered and fell. Crevasses opened up before our feet. Hogun’s horse whinnied nervously and Fandral’s shied every time the ice cracked above her.

“You’ve come a long way to die, Asgardian,” came a harsh voice out of the dark.

“I am Thor, Odin-son,” I shouted back proudly, leaping down from Horse.

“We know who you are,” said that same gravelly voice.

“How did your people get into Asgard?”

The giant leaned forward and I almost startled, so much like one of the pillars of ice he’d looked. “The House of Odin is full of traitors,” he said smugly.

“Do not dishonor my Father’s name with your lies!” Oh how I wished to smite that grin from his face. I could hear Horse grumbling and pawing the ground behind me.

“Your Father is a murderer and a thief,” the creature snapped rising from his throne of ice. “And why have you come here? I doubt to make peace. You long for battle; you crave it. You’re nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man.”

Horse harrumphed.

“This boy,” I snarled back, “grows tired of your mockery.” I started to step forward, eager to put an end to these insults only to find Horse blocking my path and someone’s hand on my shoulder.

“Thor,” someone whispered in my ear as the giants gathered.   “Look around. We’re outnumbered.” He sounded almost like Loki then and I turned on him, snapping. “Know your place, brother,” I said and nearly froze in shock as I saw Fandral step back in surprise at my tone.

“You know not what your actions will unleash,” the beast said. “I do. Go now, while I still allow it.”

I could almost hear Loki in my head. “Accept his offer, Thor. Don’t be a fool.” I sighed in disappointment and turned to go, earning sighs of relief from Horse and my friends.

“Run back home, little Princess,” mocked the beast and I found myself grinning as I swung Mjolnir and smashed the creature into a wall. Oh, that felt good! As more of the monsters gathered, I felt excitement such as I’d not felt since Nornheim. Here was the glory I longed for – wielding Mjolnir to smite my enemies – my friends battling at my side. I did miss Loki with his smirk and the gleam in his green eyes as he nocked an arrow, tossed one of his many throwing knives or wielded the magic he was so fond of. Oh well. It was his loss.

Fandral’s mare shied at every motion and, if not for Sif’s charger, might have turned tail and run straight over one of the cliffs that seemed to appear constantly out of nowhere. The great bay seemed to have appointed himself the Gray Lady’s personal champion, paying far more attention to her than to the giants trying to skewer his mistress.

 

I laughed as I swung Mjolnir. “At least make it a challenge for me,” I cried, flinging my hammer and smashing aside at least a dozen giants. Volstagg wielded his battle axe and Hogun his mace from atop their great chargers while Sif and Fandral danced about on their own two feet, slicing and stabbing with such grace and style it was a joy to watch. Not that I had much opportunity to watch being busy with the monsters Horse and I were battling. His great hooves and teeth were doing almost as much damage as Mjolnir.

My heart nearly stopped though when I saw – or thought I saw - one of the giants nearly run my horse through only to have him disappear in a flicker of green just as one of the monsters nearly took my own head off. I shook my head as I swung Mjolnir again and spied Horse more than a little distance away. Seeing things, I thought, wondering how close to my head that blow had come.

Suddenly Fandral screamed in agony as ice speared him through the gut. “Thor, we must go,” Sif cried as Volstagg and Hogun pulled my friend from the ice.

“Then go,” I shouted back. “Run!” They heaved Fandral onto his horse as Sif grabbed the reins and shouted again for me to hurry.

Horse lifted his head and bugled, rearing and smashing the giants trying to take him down. He seemed to be everywhere at once.

There came a groaning from the ice above and the mountain rumbled.   Horse screamed then, eyes wide, and I turned to see a huge beast emerging from the ice and snow. My friends were far ahead but not far enough if that thing came loose. Horse seemed to agree for he raced to my side, not even stopping so I could mount properly. I flung myself into the saddle and we raced for our lives and the lives of my friends.

It was a disaster. Even I could admit that now. We stood on the edge of a precipice, giants as far as we could see. “Heimdall,” I cried. “Open the Bifrost!” Nothing happened. As he had said, we were to be left to die on Jotunheim. Horse shuddered and took a step back. “Steady,” I muttered, not wanting us to tumble over the edge. Far better, I thought, to die in glorious battle than to fall to our deaths fleeing from the enemy.

“Thor?” Sif whispered. I shook my head.

Light suddenly appeared in the sky and we all glanced up. Oh, thank the Norns! Father and Sleipnir had arrived to help us. “Father,” I cried. “We can finish them together!” Sleipnir rolled his eyes and tossed his head.

“Silence!” the old man roared, then spoke to the giant who slid up close on a bed of ice. “Laufey,” he said. “Let us end this without further bloodshed.”

What was this? I started to speak but Horse turned his head and glared me into silence -traitorous beast.

“Your boy started this,” Laufey said.

“Then treat this as the actions of a boy,” Father argued.

The Frost Giant shook his head. “We are beyond diplomacy now, All-Father,” he grumbled. “He’ll get what he came for – war and death.”

“So be it,” Father said quietly. Then, as the giant raised a hand to strike, Father cast him back and whisked us all away.

 

After our horses were sent back to their stalls, I turned on Father. “Why did you bring us back?” I cried, angry and humiliated – even more so to see Loki standing there.

“Do you realize what you’ve done? What you’ve started?” Father turned to where Hogun and Volstagg supported Fandral. “Get him to the healing rooms,” he ordered.

“I was protecting our home,” I protested loudly and saw Loki wince. He had no right to be here watching this. No doubt the minute we were out of sight he’d gone running to Father.

Sif apparently agreed for I heard her hiss at Loki as she passed. “Liar,” she said, but Loki shook his head in denial.

“You can’t even protect your friends,” Father roared. “How can you hope to protect the kingdom?”

“There won’t be a kingdom to protect if you’re afraid to act!” I shouted back, angry at myself as well as Father. I was angry, too, at Loki who stood there shaking his head.   “The Jotuns must learn to fear me even as they once feared you!”

“That’s pride and vanity talking not leadership,” Father said more quietly. He sounded, now, more tired than angry and I almost regretted my words. “You’ve forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior’s patience.”

“While you wait and be patent, the Nine Realms laugh at us!” How could I make him understand? “The old ways are done,” I cried. “You stand there giving speeches, while Asgard falls.”

“You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy,” Father shouted, angry again.

“And you are an old man and a fool!” I couldn’t seem to stop the words pouring out of my mouth.

Apparently, neither could Father who bowed his head. “Yes,” he said sadly. “I was a fool to think you were ready.”

I saw Loki out of the corner of my eye as he started to speak. “Father,” my brother began but Father cut him off.

“Father,” Loki tried again and again Father beat him into silence with a growl that was more animal than human. Loki flinched and shrank back.

See what your ‘obedience’ gains you, I thought smugly. Well, I felt smug until Father opened his mouth again.

“Thor, Odin-son, you have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war!” Grungir clanged down. “You are unworthy of these realms,” Father snarled, ripping the medallions from my armor. “You are unworthy of your title,” he said as he tore my cloak from my shoulders. “You are unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed!” he finished as he turned and mounted the dais where Heimdall normally stood. “I now take from you your power!” he said and Mjolnir flew from my hand to his as I stood there dumbfounded. Even Loki looked shocked. “In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin All-Father cast you out!”

The last thing I saw as the power took me, hurling me into oblivion was my brother throwing himself forward, eyes wide and hands outstretched whether to pull me back or fling himself after me I had no idea. The last thing I heard was Loki shouting my name and then there was nothing but darkness and the wild wind hurtling past.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Crazy_Cat_Lady without whose assistance this would make far less sense than it does


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor makes a hard landing

I fell through cold and darkness; I fell through emptiness and silence – silence except for the screaming I heard in my head and where that came from I did not know.I had certainly never screamed like that in my life – not even as a youngling – nor had Loki that I could recall.  

It seemed I was forever falling and I wondered where – and how – Father might be sending me that it took so long.Traveling the Bifrost to Jotunheim had been but a matter of minutes. Even the journey to Nornheim, the entire battle, the victory celebration and the journey back hadn’t seemed so long.  

Eventually, I could see unfamiliar stars as they blew past and feel the wind as it tore at me.Still later, I saw land – barren and dark and dry – and wondered again where Father had sent me. This was no realm with which I was familiar. I wondered, too, what Loki might be thinking and then chided myself for the wondering.Of course, he’d be thinking me gone forever and he next in line for the throne.Was he gloating even now having been proven right?He’d warned us not to go to Jotunheim and I’d not listened – none of us had listened.Was he overjoyed, perhaps, that I had so thoroughly disgraced myself in Father’s sight – one-eyed though it was?Or did he mourn the brother he claimed to love?With Loki it was damned hard to tell sometimes.

I hadn’t even set foot to ground before I was attacked by a monstrous creature with blazing eyes and fearsome voice that struck me and tossed me about as though I was no more than a toy.I had no time for even a thought before the dark overtook me.

I woke, hoping this was all a dream – a night terror brought on by drink, perhaps – to find myself surrounded by strangers in a land as hot and dry and dark as I’d imagined.I staggered to my feet, bruised and battered and shaken and as I stumbled about I found myself – my stomach at least – stirred as well.I had never felt so ill in my life – not even after a long night’s hard drinking or the time we’d all eaten a mushroom stew Fandral had made.Well, five of us had eaten it; Loki – cautious little beast that he was – had refused to have anything to do with it.  

“What realm is this?” I cried, as much to myself as to the ones around me.I could only hope the All-Speak would not fail me and I’d be able to communicate.“Alfheim?Vanaheim?”Hel, it could be Nifleheim for all I knew.It was certainly dark and barren enough.

“NewMexico?” suggested a slight dark-haired female standing to one side.Well, either the All-Speak wasn’t living entirely up to its name,for I was sure I was not understanding properly,or Father had foolishly sent me where no man – Aesir or otherwise – had gone before. I had never heard of this realm of Newmexico.Oh, how I wished I’d paid more attention to my lessons in language and geography.How I wished Father had banished Loki with me.But the All-Speak had always sufficed before, as it was understood in all the Nine Realms.How could I have guessed Father would send either one of us somewhere it seemed to be if not unknown at least somewhat uncooperative?  

“We need to get him to a hospital,” said an older male who seemed to be a guard of some sort – though old, indeed, for such a post. Ahh, apparently the All-tongue wasn’t entirely useless here.I could hear and understand the words but much – not all, but enough to make me feel foolish – of the meaning escaped me.

“He’s fine,” answered the woman kneeling near where I’d lain.“Just look at him,” she continued without even glancing up.How could she tell how ‘fine’ I was without so much as a look at my teeth?I’d make a more careful inspection of a horse I meant to purchase.

Questions piled up in my head like wool in a shearing pen.What was she doing tracing patterns in the dirt?Were there symbols there she could read?Was she a sorceress?How much magic did she know?Loki would undoubtedly find this – and her – fascinating.Indeed, I could almost hear the conversation in my head and shuddered imagining it. All I wanted was to go home.

“Heimdall,” I shouted.“Open the Bifrost!”

“Hospital,” the witch commanded.“You go; I’ll stay.”

“Heimdall!” I shouted again.Why was there no answer?Surely Father didn’t intend me to stay in this backwater realm forever.What purpose could possibly be served by casting me onto these shores?According to Mother, there was always a purpose for everything Father did but I certainly couldn’t see one in this.If I was banished, why could Father not have sent me somewhere known – somewhere I might find deliverance – somewhere those who searched for me might actually find what they sought? I had no doubt my friends would hunt for me whether Father permitted it or no.Surely, too, Mother would scry for me, though I was unsure if even her sight could find me here.

I looked again at the witch.If she understood what she saw, might her knowledge help send me home?How could I best gain her aid?Should I threaten?I was well-versed in battle and she was small.Her guard was old and looked to be not in the prime of his strength.It would be easy to overpower them and force them to aid me. I sighed and shook my head to clear it.It seemed Loki’s little fireworks had followed me here for I could see them sparkling in front of my eyes – red and gold and green lights dancing through the air like bright little fairies.Somehow, I doubted these fairies would appreciate my offering violence to a mere girl no matter how much power she had.

Was there any form of coercion or bribery I could use on these people?Alas, knowing nothing of this realm, I knew not what they considered to be of value.Even had I known, Father had tossed me out on my ass with nothing but the clothes on my back and I was loath indeed to even consider parting with them. 

“Heimdall,” I cried again.“Open the Bifrost.”I stumbled over a rock and swore as the nail on my toe ripped.Father had dropped me here without my boots?He might as well have sent me naked into this miserable place.I swore again as my foot came down on something sharp and I stumbled into a small tree covered with spines.This place was more dangerous even than Nornheim.There only the Norns’ beasts and soldiers tried to kill you.Here, the very earth and plants drew blood.

As Crown Prince of Asgard, I would not – could not – beg or plead (though Norns knew I certainly wished I could).My brother would undoubtedly bargain for their assistance but I had nothing to bargain with and no skill for trade in any case.Oh how I wished now for Loki and his silver-tongue as I remembered the tradesmen in the market square and how they’d praised his cleverness.

I ground my teeth and moved toward the woman, then stopped, staring.The darker wench held a small box aimed at me as though she meant it as a weapon.What could she possibly expect to do with that pitiful little box?  

“You dare threaten the mighty Thor with so puny a weapon?”  

I felt a jolt of lightning strike my body – not one jolt but many.What power was this?Were all these women wielders of magic like Mother? Perhaps Father should send Loki here, I thought as I fell, if my ever-obedient little brother ever stepped out of line – not that that was likely.Loki, for all his tricks and mischief, had only ever wanted one thing – Father’s love and acceptance.Mine and Mother’s he knew he had.Well, he had mine to a point.There were limits, after all, though Mother didn’t seem to set any.

I woke again more confused than ever.So many questions were running through my head I doubted I would ever find answers for most of them.  

What was this place, so cold and white?When the man had thought me injured by their beast, he had mentioned ‘hospital’ as though that were a place of healing.This was certainly nothing like the healing chambers at home. In those chambers was warmth and light.This place was cold and there was a foul odor in the air. 

 I looked about me.Perhaps they’d brought me to a prison or a torture chamber?But why would they?I had offered them no violence.It was they who had attacked me. Admittedly I had considered employing violence against them,for I was desperate, but they had no way of knowing that unless they had the power to see inside my mind.Now, there was a disturbing thought.Father often seemed to have such power and Loki had frequently pretended the same.Loki’s skill, however, was in reading people – not their minds – and manipulating them into doing his bidding, thinking it their own.

Who was this mortal man wielding an even smaller, sharper weapon than the woman who’d shocked me into unconsciousness?He was no healer.Males on Asgard were not healers.Only women held that power there. Loki had tried a few times but the only ‘healing’ he seemed capable of was midwifery.Norns only knew how many babies he’d helped deliver. Mother said it was because we were both too ‘selfish’ to spend ourselves healing others.But I doubted our character had much to do with it.Loki seemed skilled enough in the field when it came to healing himself and me of scratches, insect bites and minor bruises.Although, the ‘spells’ he used consisted more of lotions and creams than actual magic.I couldn’t heal so much as a toothache for myself.  

How long had I lain here, unconscious?What had they done to me while my spirit roamed the halls of Valhalla or the paths of Nifilheim- who knew where a warrior’s spirit went when he’d been bested in battle by a chit of a girl?My head throbbed.My stomach churned.My body tingled as though it was still encased in the lightning she’d sent coursing over and through me and Loki’s little lights still danced in front of my eyes.

Where were my clothes?That was the question I wanted answered most.I would not be gawked at by these petty creatures.I was Odin’s son and would retain what dignity I could – even under these unfavorable conditions.

“Just taking a little blood,” the man said, as though he thought me ignorant entirely of magical processes and his words would make me passive.I knew what could be done with blood-magic and none of it was pretty.  

“How dare you assault the son of Odin,” I cried jerking my arm out of his hold and scrambling off the bed, the flimsy garment they’d dressed me in flapping wildly. Well, there went any hope of retaining my dignity.

“You were injured,” he went on, grabbing for my arm again and pulling me back onto the bed.“We’re just trying to help.”I could only credit my surprise at being handled in such a manner for his success.

“Then bring me a healing stone, you savages!”I wanted a real healer – and by the Norns I would have one or these barbarians would face the consequences.Just let me hold Mjolnir in my hands again and I would show these fiends the power of Thor.

“A little help here,” he called and I found myself surrounded and fighting for my very life.I leapt from the bed where they’d thought to secure me for whatever dark magic they’d planned.Men – an army of them – in garments of blue and others in white or green attacked me by twos and threes, but I tossed them off.Cabinets and cupboards filled with glass and metal containers – much like those in Loki’s laboratory – went crashing to the floor.Father may have taken the power of Mjolnir, but I still had my strength.At least, I hoped I did.

I was certain my own power could overcome whatever magic these cretins possessed and so laughed and shouted taunts at them. 

 “You cannot defeat the son of Odin,” I began, thinking I would let them know I was not to be trifled with.

I was wrong. My power was as nothing against their magic as I felt a serpent strike and felt darkness swoop over me only to wake strapped to yet another bed and confined in yet another room.I was bound so securely this time that, struggle as I might, it availed me nothing.Indeed, my struggles raised such a racket I soon found myself surrounded and felt again the sting as serpent or scorpion struck, its poison flooding my veins. 

I woke some time later feeling dizzy and sick and almost certain I was going to die from my injuries.I began to struggle anew, but more cautiously this time so’s not to set off any alarms.I had no more success this time than the last.How could this be?There had never been a trap or bindings in all the tests we’d been subject to from which I could not escape before.I struggled harder as the sweat broke out on my brow and my heart raced.And again their foul magic sent me to sleep.

‘Stop and think, you fool,’ I told myself, as I swam up from the darkness.‘If strength avails not, perhaps cunning will.What would Loki do?’I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm. I tugged lightly at the straps securing my wrists and ankles and felt them give slightly – not shackles of metal, then but something softer and more pliable.I began to twist and flex my wrists and gradually my hands came free. Removing the bindings from my legs and ankles was infinitely easier.

 I failed to understand these people.They thought me dangerous enough to need securing but weak enough that such as this would suffice?Never had I been so confused.Never had I been so insulted.

At last I was free – or at least free of the bindings.How free I might be with my head pounding so I could hardly see, my stomach threatening to turn itself inside-out, and clad only in this loose and flopping robe with the wind whistling up my bared ass was another matter entirely.Somehow, I managed to find my way out of doors and onto a road lined with other beasts like the one that had attacked me earlier.What realm was this Newmexico where such creatures were left to graze – though there seemed little enough to graze upon here - unattended?  

I heard a loud coughing sound and glanced up only to be struck yet again.I wondered, as I fell, how I might have given offense this time.The odd creature – if creature it was and not some magical device –hadn’t even looked in my direction.

“I swear,” exclaimed a voice above my head.“I’m not doing this on purpose.”  

Not doing this on purpose?I looked up to see the sorceress from the first attack bending over me.So, her magic then controlled the creature?And, if she truly controlled it, how was it ‘not on purpose’ that the beast continued to attack me?Perhaps her control was fragmentary at best?Might she be an apprentice or journeyman mage, still in the throes of harnessing her power?Perhaps the older mortal I had thought a guard was, in reality, her mentor?Or, Norns forbid, could the dark-haired woman with the lightning-box be the mistress of magic?If so, I dreaded should I offend her yet again.

I had cause to wonder at my surroundings even more when they pulled me to my feet and bundled me into the belly of the beast.What manner of creature carried men in its stomach and then – hopefully – spat them out again?My heart raced like a frightened horse and my knees turned to jelly.Never had I been so affrighted. Never had I been so humiliated or felt so weakened.But, I would show neither weakness nor fear, do with me what they would.I was Odin’s son and as much a power in my own right as these beings for all their strange magic.I, too, could summon lightning – though I had Mjolnir instead of a tiny box.And Loki knew languages both ancient and new and needed no scribbling in the dust to transcribe their meaning.Indeed, his memory was so prodigious I’d often heard him recite speeches and arguments from Council meetings lunar cycles in the past verbatim at Father’s command.Despite – or perhaps because of – my fear, I slept.I did not swoon (though I was sure Loki or Sif would swear I did).No damsel was I to fall swooning at every little thing.I was Odin’s son, damn it.I did not swoon.Nor did I faint. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many heartfelt thanks to Crazy_Cat_Lady for weeks of struggle over this chapter. Thanks, too, to everybody who's left kudos and comments. You have no idea how much it helps keep the fire burning


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor misses his brother and wants his mother

I must have slept for some time for when I next opened my eyes I was in yet another chamber – one full of light and air. Long tables, such as were used for feasting in Asgard, held equipment much like that my brother used in his research. Nearby was a basin, much like those used for washing in the servants’ quarters of the palace. The water here was cool, however, and I shivered as I bathed. Was the magic these beings possessed not even sufficient to heat the water they used to cleanse themselves? That seemed odd considering the power transmitted through the darker wench’s little box – unless all their magic was turned to the use of battle and none left for creature comforts.

More and more I missed my little brother and regretted mocking his use of magic. Loki could have restored the water in the basin to scalding with a wave of his hand – or turned it to ice with another just for fun.

“Put these on,” ordered the first witch, tossing me garments of some strange heavy blue material. At least the form was familiar, I thought as I sat down to pull them on in my normal manner – one leg at a time. Loki frequently just ‘magicked’ his on, the bastard.

I strode – or staggered more like as I was still unnaturally weak and dizzy – to what I assumed were windows, though these were filled with a clear crystal and not open to the air like those in Asgard. Still, at least one could see out-of-doors here, unlike the healing rooms in that other place they called ‘hospital’. If that was their idea of hospitality, I wanted nothing more to do with it. Even the Dwarves were not so rude and uncouth.

“You know,” mused the dark-haired witch – she who had rattled my brain with her magic box –“for a crazy homeless guy, he’s pretty cut.”

I froze. Cut? Could they perceive wounds of which I was unaware? How badly had their beast (or whatever it was) injured me? How much damage had the serpent done? Was it possible that even now Lady Death might be reaching for me? No! I would die in glorious battle and ride with the Valkyries to Valhalla – if those winged warrior women could find me here in a realm no one had ever heard of. I came near to weeping at the thought. How could Father have done so cruel a thing to me – his first-born and best-loved son?

Then their other words caught my attention. They thought me crazed? No one referred to a son of Odin as ‘crazy’ or ‘mad’. Such talk was treason.   Even those who spoke of Loki’s ‘womanly ways’ did so out of Father’s and Mother’s hearing (well, except for Sif that one time) and Loki, though he might have heard, never spoke of it at all to anyone – as far as I knew. I cringed with shame. Mother had been right. When I heard such mutterings, I should have spoken out – should have squashed such rumors before ever they could blossom and bear fruit.

They thought me homeless? I had a home and family in Asgard could I but find my way back – a grand home, a palace of gold with fountains and gardens and all manner of beauty.  And too, I had family who loved me, if I had not destroyed that love through pride and arrogance as Father said. Admittedly, it was a home and family I had failed to appreciate until now, my thoughts being always fixated on warring and whoring, dicing and drinking, and questing such as would win me eternal fame, but it was home and I missed it sorely now and wondered if ever I would see it – or them - again.

“Here,” said the witch, thrusting more clothing at me. I looked at what appeared to be a light tunic, though short indeed and of no protective value at all. Where was the chainmail? Where the tanned hides to protect the wearer? In such a dangerous realm, surely they did not clothe themselves in such flimsy garments. I shrugged and went to drape the garment over my head only to notice a small scrap of some odd papyrus with markings upon it.

“Oops,” exclaimed the witch as she removed the paper and I glanced at her – questioning. “My ex,” she said, thinking that some sort of explanation.   What was this ‘X’? Was it code of some kind? Loki often used numerals or signs in his journals when he wished to keep his findings secret. Why did I keep thinking of my brother in this gods-forsaken realm? Was it because I knew Loki would understand it as I never could?

My stomach rumbled and my head pounded. Loki’s little firelights sparked before my eyes and hummed in my ears.  How long had it been since last I’d eaten? Since well before my failed coronation, I was certain. Indeed, it had been longer by far. My friends and I had spent much of the night and early morn drinking but I had eaten nothing, as my stomach had refused solid food for possibly the first time in my life. And then, of course, with the coronation cancelled, so too had been the feasting. During the days we’d searched for my brother, had I partaken of true sustenance then? Memory failed me. And how long had I been floating in darkness before landing here – wherever ‘here’ actually was.

“This mortal body grows weak,” I complained. “I require sustenance.”

The women looked at one another and then to their companion who shrugged and circled the side of his brow with his fingers. Was this another form of their magic – some form of spell-casting, perhaps? I glanced quickly into the glass but saw no changes in my appearance.

This was not as reassuring as might be thought, however, for spells could take days to manifest – at least, Loki’s could. He’d once turned an ambassador’s vicious guard into a hound after the fellow had beaten a serving boy for spilling his soup. Loki had warned him the first time it happened that such was not tolerated in Asgard – at least, not tolerated by my brother.  The second time it happened, Loki had muttered a few words and made a sign over the fellow’s head, smirking all the while. The man may have laughed then, but three days later – just when he thought himself safe - as his ears and nose grew longer and his legs shorter, he wasn’t laughing. The ambassador had been furious. “Then teach your hound not to bite,” Loki had answered, but he had made another sign, muttered a few more words and vowed the man would be restored once they reached their own realm.   I never heard otherwise, so I assumed brother knew what he was doing – which was more than could be said for these witches.

“I’m sorry I tazed you,” said the black-haired witch. Apparently, their magic manifested where and when it would and they had little control over it. Their beast injured me without their meaning it to. They seemed unable (or perhaps just unwilling) to provide even a modicum of victuals for their prisoner. I had no doubt I was a prisoner given the condition of my borrowed garb and the fact that despite injuries they could see that I could not, they had made no effort, since dragging me to their ‘hospital’, to tend my wounds. At least she said she regretted the damage she had done.

Again I longed for home. “Have you nothing in this place?” I asked, slumping onto a most uncomfortable chair. I had no sooner placed my seat upon it then it rolled out from under me, dumping me onto the stone floor. What manner of magic was this where even the furniture moved of its own volition?   I glared as I picked myself up and sat again – more carefully this time – and waited for their laughter. Cruel and uncouth creatures, they didn’t even provide a means to cushion my fall.

Witches though they might be, they were a race of barbarians who should never have been trusted with the magic they wielded. “Perhaps you have no need of food,” I went on, “but I cannot live on air or light alone. I need sustenance.” Before Father took my power and made me ‘mortal’, I could go days without food. I didn’t enjoy it but I could manage. Loki fasted regularly, claiming it ‘cleared his mind’. It only made mine more ‘fuzzy’.   “Food,” I repeated, thinking perhaps they’d either not heard or not understood what I said.

“Here you go,” the man said, tossing me a box of some strange paper material with a picture of something I took to be edible upon it.

“Oh,” exclaimed the dark-haired woman. “Pop Tarts!”

I knew what ‘tart’ was and did not relish breaking my fast on something so reminiscent of the fruit in Vanaheim’s citrus groves without something more substantial to accompany it – eggs, meat and breads slathered in butter and jam for a start. Mother and Loki would break their fast with nothing more than a piece or two of bread toasted over the fire and a bowl of berries or melon in cream which made me wonder how my brother didn’t simply disappear whenever he turned sideways.

However, food was food and apparently this stuff sufficed for them, given the excitement and pleasure expressed by the woman with the ‘tazer’ box. I opened the box and began to eat. There wasn’t much to whatever these ‘popped’ tarts were nor were they particularly ‘tart’ being filled with strange spices similar to those that I remembered some travelers to Midgard had brought back from islands there when Loki and I were both very young. Indeed, they reminded me of nothing so much as pages of Loki’s journals stuffed with paste. He’d caught me trying to read them once and said I might find his prose more ‘digestible’ if I ate it. He had been right.

I paused in my eating. Could this forbidding realm be Midgard? If so, it was not as I remembered it. That realm had been cooler, the sky blanketed with stars and the land covered with trees and green grass – not this hot, dry, dusty realm in which I found myself now.

The black-haired woman grinned, reminding me, somewhat, of my brother. “We can go across the street,” she suggested. Go ‘across the street’? There was nothing but a dirt road out there – nothing at all that even resembled a ‘street’. And, for what purpose should we cross their pitiful road? I saw no tavern, no inn and certainly no marketplace teeming with kiosks and food carts. I was going to starve in this wretched place.

“Izzie’s makes a decent breakfast,” the witch who had provided my borrowed clothing said. I wondered what they thought ‘decent’ if these spice-filled biscuits were so delightful to them. I had eaten all that their little box contained and still my stomach grumbled.

The older man nodded. “We could all use a bite,” he said.

They could use a ‘bite’? I could certainly use more than a ‘bite’.   If a bite was sufficient, it was no wonder they were all as thin as my brother. Not a one of them would make even a decent mouthful for any self-respecting troll, wyvern or dragon. Well, the man might but, being old, he would undoubtedly be tough and stringy.

They looked at me.   “I’ll just whip something up quick,” exclaimed the darker woman. She chuckled – again reminding me of my brother in a particularly evil mood.

“No!” shrieked the other witch. “That’s okay, Darcy, we have a little grant money left for the month.”

From whence came these ‘grants’ she spoke of? Was there a king who kept them on retainer as Father did his Vanir and Elf sorcerers? If so, I doubted the wisdom of such a king. He’d do better by far to keep these wenches leashed and collared so as to minimize the damage they did to his other subjects.

The woman called Darcy frowned slightly. “I know I’m not much of a cook,” she said. “And he’s cute as hell, but he’s not ready for prime-time, Janie.”

She thought me ‘cute’ as Hel? This was a term I was unfamiliar with. In all of my experience I had never heard Hel referred to as other than a dark and fearsome place – full of traps and dangers – though Loki swore it could not be. For, he said, why should those who had perished of sickness or old age or the very young who had harmed no one, why should they be sent to a place of misery when their whole lives had been filled with the same? No, he said. Hel was a peaceful place and fair and the Queen a child of laughter not of tears and pain. He had seemed very certain as he spoke and I had almost believed him.

“I’ll go and bring breakfast back,” said the male. “I’ll treat.”

He would ‘treat’? With whom would he treat? Did this fool imagine a meal would make the son of Odin amenable to aligning himself with such as these? Where were the ambassadors or the Chancellors to make these treaties? Where was the king to place his signet upon their parchment?   Where was my brother? I wanted him to make certain this agreement was in Asgard’s best interests.

“I treat not without my advisors present,” I said proudly.  

“You’re right,” the oldster continued as he made for the door. “I don’t think he’s ready to be out in public.”

Not ready to be out in public? I had been presented to Asgard before I could walk and was welcomed everywhere. Perhaps he meant the ‘public’ was not ready for me or that I was still too ‘ill’ to be exposed to their uncouth ways. I chose to believe so in any case, lest I feel compelled to teach him some respect. In this weakened state, I was not entirely certain I was capable of such, so ignored his jibe.

He returned, bringing more boxes some time later – before I quite perished from hunger but not before the pangs in my stomach had certainly made themselves known.  

“Pancakes, juice, bacon, scrambled eggs and sausage,” he announced. “Izzy had a run on coffee but we’ve got Instant Folger’s in the office.” He set the boxes on the table as the women fetched plates and eating utensils.

I nodded gratefully and tucked in, wrapping the little links in the sweet syrupy bread and stuffing it whole into my mouth, then licking the juice from my fingers. It was quite good I had to admit as I finished off the ‘pancakes’ and started on the eggs and some crispy meat strips. I soon finished those as well and looked around for more only to notice my ‘keepers’ standing and staring in concern.

“How could you eat a whole box of Pop Tarts and still be this hungry?”

To this inquiry from the dark-haired Darcy I had no answer save that their ‘popped tarts’ left much to be desired.

“He ate everything,” the woman, Jane, said sounding dazed. “He ate every damned thing, the selfish pig.”

“Indeed,” I replied, confused.  She thought me a selfish pig? Was the food not to be eaten? “It was quite good and I was very hungry. I thank you,” I said politely to the old man standing still to one side. “Perhaps, if circumstances allow, a treaty might be negotiated after all.”

“Oh, this is so going on Facebook and YouTube,” exclaimed the dark-haired witch, Darcy. She held in her hands another little box – rather like her box of lightning but smaller – which she showed me.

I reeled back in shock. Her box held my soul? I could see myself moving, stuffing food into my mouth as though I’d not eaten in months.  Indeed, I reminded myself of nothing so much as Volstagg at the solstice feast. Oh, Norns! With my soul trapped in her little box or in their book of faces, I would never reach Valhalla. What monstrous magic was this? Would that Loki were here to explain these workings to me.

I growled and reached to snatch it out of her hands but she danced back and pressed something on the box. “Posted,” she shrieked. “You’ll be famous. Let’s just see how many hits this baby gets.”

Baby? What baby? I saw no infant either here or in her little box. And why in my father’s father’s name would anyone wish to see a baby injured? And how could such wickedness bring fame to me? I was no abuser of infants and for them to imply such made me grit my teeth and clench my fists so as not to strangle one – or all three – of them.

These people were not only primitive but cruel. Perhaps treating with such would be unwise. I would think on it now that my head had stopped pounding somewhat and my stomach refrained from tying itself in knots. Or had it? I was uncertain what I felt at the moment.

I was weary and sick beyond belief, as though the events of the past hours – days, weeks? – had drained my spirit entire. I nodded, as politely as I could, and staggered into the little retiring room where I had wakened. The cot was hard and really much too small for my frame, but I was so very tired that I slept almost as soon as I lay my head down.

I woke suddenly, my gorge rising and hurried to the basin nearby. Thank the Norns, I arrived in time and spewed not all over their floor. My stomach clenched and I heaved still more into the basin. What was wrong with me? Had the food been poisoned? I thought not as the woman had seemed genuinely angry that I had eaten everything. Perhaps they had cursed it – and me – for my greed?

I heard gasps and sounds of another’s misery which only added to my own. “Oh, eww,” exclaimed a woman’s voice. “That is like totally gross!”

Gross? I wiped my mouth and staggered back to the cot they had provided me, certain I was dying.

Thus passed two – or maybe three – cycles of sunrise and sunset which, I suppose, even these creatures counted as days just as we did in the Realm Eternal. I would wake, groggy and weak, bathe, dress and eat what little they put in front of me – a thin watery gruel and dry toast at morn and a clear broth and more dry toast or thin hard biscuits later in the day – and I would pray I could keep it down which I did more often than not once I remembered to swallow slowly and not as though my meal might be snatched from me by one of Loki’s pets.

Once or twice I felt a cool hand on my brow and a soft damp cloth bathing my face. “Mother,” I mumbled, but dared not open my eyes or try to grasp her hand for fear I would find it nothing but a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe about a gazillion thanks to Crazy_Cat_Lady for catching my grammar and logistical errors. The woman is a saint.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is eating his 'friends' out of house and home. Whatever shall be done?

The two witches – though they denied it with every breath – sat stiff and silent across from me at the checkered table in the little eating establishment they called ‘Is he’s’. Is he what, I wondered. And who is ‘he’? The only person to greet us when we entered had been a woman near as old as Father in appearance. Their old guard – warlock or wizard or sorcerer, though he denied it as well – Selvig by name, reclined in a chair a short distance away, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl writ large across his face.

My first day able to rise from my bed without stumbling over my feet and they’d dragged me here? A plate was placed before me and a cup of some steaming black liquid that smelled like nothing I could name.   I glanced at the women, picking at their own food, and raised my brow.

“I am permitted?” I asked, politely. It was always wise to be polite in the presence of power, I reminded myself.   It was unfortunate I’d not remembered that before telling Father he was an old man and a fool.  “No curse will fall upon me should I partake?” I was not entirely sure I could trust them, even should they say so, but I was starving and my stomach felt near to becoming intimately acquainted with my spine.

Jane waved a hand. “Go for it,” she said, moving egg and toast about on her plate. “It won’t bite, I promise. We asked for something relatively bland and easy for you to digest.”

I sighed. Bland, indeed – a boiled egg, toast lacking even butter, let alone jam or cheese (and no meat of any kind, neither beast nor fish nor fowl) was all there was to be found upon my plate. I came near to gagging as the old woman placed a bowl of the ubiquitous ‘oatmeal’ mash in front of me. How Loki would have laughed to see me make do with so little. I wished he was here to eat it. I glanced at Selvig’s and Darcy’s plates, heaped with egg, meat patties and crisp potatoes and my mouth watered.

“Eat up,” Darcy commanded, scraping up the remains of her egg with toast and a forkful of ‘hashed-browns’. “When you’re done, Janie here would like a few words with Your Royal High-and-Mightiness.”

Lady Jane jumped like a scalded cat and stared at her dark-haired companion with wide eyes while that one glanced back with an expression so innocent even my brother would have been hard-pressed to equal it.

“What?” the younger woman asked. “You know you want to.”

“You have to, Jane,” the man – Selvig – added from a position of what sounded faintly like authority. Teacher, then – was that his place in this mad triad?

If they wanted me dead, they’d had plenty of opportunity in days past while I lay weak and sweating in that tiny closet. I took a bite of my mash and chased it down with a gulp of the liquid in my cup. I deemed it safe enough, as all three of my keepers had been provided the same – I’d watched carefully as the old woman poured, just to make certain.

My hand stopped of its own volition as I made to set the black stuff back on the table. Such elixir was provided for all? This was nectar fit for gods – not mere mortals.

I swallowed the rest in a single gulp and tossed the cup onto the floor. “Another!” I roared, certain the woman would hurry over, pleased to have been so honored.

“What the hell was that?” Jane rose from her chair, casting an angry glance my way as she bent to pick the shards of glass from the floor.

“It was good,” I explained, puzzled by her reaction. “I want another.”

Jane Foster – she of the wheat-colored hair and storm-cloud eyes – snapped as sharply as one of my own lightning bolts or Loki’s tongue. “You could just ask.”

“I did,” I protested.

Darcy dropped her head into her hands to smother a groan as the Foster woman glared daggers at me.   “Nicely,” she growled.

I was to ask ‘nicely’? Was the shattering of glassware not enough? What did they want from me? At home, this was a mark of appreciation.

As the old woman brought another cup of the dark liquid, I glanced at the two younger women and took a small bite of the egg. “You wished to speak to me?” I asked. Nicely, I hoped.

“Look, I don’t intend to push you into anything, when you’ve been sick and all,” Jane began, looking down and biting her lip.

I swallowed a chuckle at the very thought that these fragile little people could push me anywhere or into anything I did not wish, now that I was somewhat returned to health. How very foolish they were.

“Yes, you do,” muttered her fellow sorceress. “So, go on and tell him.” Jane remained silent. “Oh, for pity’s sake,” the other exclaimed. “What she’s trying to say is the grant money’s late this month and we – that is, she – can’t keep feeding you for free since food costs money and we don’t have any.”

I stared. Did their king not provide sufficient funds for their needs in these grants? How often did he send these funds and why could they not manage more wisely? No wonder their magic was so chancy, if their master could not be relied upon. I shook my head in disgust. Father would never have treated his mages so. However were they to learn?

“Did you hear me? I said Janie can’t feed you forever.”

Of course I heard her. I wasn’t deaf, though I might soon wish to be so. What did she mean when she said they could not feed me forever? I had no intention of remaining here forever. Father would forgive me as he always did. He would restore my powers, or someone – Loki I hoped, for then I could gain answers to all the questions cluttering my brain – would come find me and bring me home.

In any case, I was the Crown Prince of Asgard. These women – whether witches or not – should be on their knees, grateful that I, the son of Odin, Ruler of the Nine Realms, deigned to grace their miserable hovel with my presence. I struggled for calm – breathing deep and counting.

“Alas,” I explained, “my journey to this realm commenced so suddenly, I left my purse in my rooms.” I shrugged, striving to maintain my princely dignity as I admitted, “I have no coin with which to pay.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” chuckled the dark-haired young woman. “We can help you find a nice easy job until you feel better and get back on your feet.”

They could find me a ‘job’?   I had no idea what that even meant, but I liked not the sound of it. “What is this ‘job’?” I asked suspiciously.

“A job is work for pay,” explained the man – Selvig. “You know what that is, right?” I nodded, uncertainly. Serfs and servants ‘worked’ in palace, manor house and field. Slaves worked alongside the Dwarves in the mines and manufactories of Nidavellir. What ‘pay’ was, however, I was less sure of.

“I am adjudged passing fair as a hunter,” I said, modestly. Indeed, ‘passing fair’ was an understatement almost on a level with saying Loki was a clever little imp. “I could hunt game for food,” I offered. “Are there deer in this realm, or wild boar? Or might bilgesnipe be found? Though they are dangerous beasts, one should suffice for many days if prepared properly.” I glanced at the women. “If you would not be averse to making use of the bones and hooves for soup stock or jelly and the organs . . .”

Jane had grown pale and pushed her plate away. “You know,” she muttered, looking near as ill as I had felt these past days, “That idea Donald had of going vegan is sounding really good right now. I’ve been meaning to try it.”

Darcy’s mouth had dropped open. “You’d shoot Bambi?” she asked, an unholy fire in her eye. “What kind of monster are you?”

“No monster, and I know nothing of bambies. What are they? Are they good for food?”

“I’ll show you when we get back,” Darcy promised. “We’ll all watch, even though Jane will probably bawl her eyes out at the end.”

That sounded ominous. I had heard of those who gouged out their eyes rather than see that which should not be seen. But how would she ‘ball’ out her eyes and why would her friend be willing for her to do so? Would she recover her sight? Was this another function of their magic? I wished again that Loki was here to explain how that could be.

“Bilgesnipe?” inquired Selvig. “What do they look like?”

“Big,” I answered promptly. “Six legs, tall, hooves as large as that,” I continued, pointing at his platter. “Their tusks are as long and sharp as a good sword.”

“How tall?” Darcy asked. “Are they as tall as you?”

“Easily,” I agreed. “The hair of a snipe is coarse and thick but makes an excellent rug when woven properly and the meat is rich and well-marbled in the harvest season.”

Selvig hummed and steepled his fingers under his chin. More and more, these people’s mannerisms reminded me of my brother. Was Loki trying to contact me all the way from Asgard? “Across the Rio into Mexico, I believe I heard rumors of a whole herd – flock - gaggle? You’d have to cross hundreds of miles of desert, doubt you’d make it in your weakened condition but you’re welcome to try.”

I was unsure what measure of distance a ‘mile’ was, but if he deemed it impossible for me to travel so far in my present state, I thought I might have no choice but to believe him.  Disappointing, but I had suffered such minor irritations before and overcome eventually. Once I regained my strength, I would make the trek and bring back one of the creatures as an offering.

“As a warrior, I am considered greatest in all the realms,” I went on. There was no point in false modesty regarding my skill and power in battle. Surely even these people had heard of my prowess, despite my never having heard of them or their wretched not-Midgardian realm, unless this really was Midgard, Norns forbid. I wanted my Midgard back – the one where as Fandral had said ‘we were worshipped as gods’. I wanted a Midgard of forests and mountains, not this flat dry desert. I wanted the Midgard where tiny women did not throw lightning and poison their prisoners or threaten them with jobs. I wanted a Midgard where my brother stood by my side and, if the battle was – somehow – about to be lost, covered us in smoke to hide our escape.

Moreover, I asked myself why was ‘across the Rio’ (and what in Father’s name was this Rio he spoke of) Mexico, when this realm was supposedly Newmexico? Had they overthrown their king in Mexico and broken away to form a new realm? I shuddered, almost relieved that I had never heard of this place before.

Had it been one of the Nine – or even somewhat familiar to those who watched – could not such poison spread as a weed in fertile ground? What if some of those in Asgard, dissatisfied with their lot (and there always were those dissatisfied with the natural order of things), should choose to follow in the path of such treason?

Jane rose from her chair. “I think ‘fighting’ might be a bit too much for you at present,” she said, calmly – almost too calmly to my mind. She was obviously plotting something dire. “You wait here and finish your breakfast. I’ll be right back.”

Darcy glanced up with a frown. “Want me to go with?”

Jane shook her head. “When he’s finished, if I’m not back, go on back and let him watch Bambi.” She gave me a hard look. “See if he still wants to kill deer after that.”

I could not understand their aversion to the slaying of deer. Many were the times we – myself, Sif. Loki and the Warriors Three, that is – had been feted by our worshippers with venison, both roast and stewed. If this was Midgard – which I still doubted – what could have changed in only a few hundred years?

“Done?” Darcy’s voice broke upon my thoughts like rocks sliding down a mountainside.

I sighed and looked upon my empty plate and bowl. Apparently, I was ‘done’. I sighed again and nodded. “Verily, unless there is an opportunity for more,” I added, hopefully.

“Popcorn back at the trailer,” she said, jumping up from the table. “We always have popcorn, nachos and sodas when we watch movies.”

I frowned. So that was what they called their little house on wheels? “I thought we were to watch this bambi creature so that I would no longer wish to kill deer. Do you keep the beast in your home?” I certainly had seen nothing of it – nor smelled it either.   Perhaps the beast was magical, like its mistresses, in which case attempting to slay and eat it would be beyond foolish.

Darcy sighed. “You really don’t know anything, do you? Bambi is classic Disney. It’s also probably at least partly responsible for a whole generation of non-meat-eaters.”

What was a ‘disney’, I wondered. Whatever it was, the thought that it might be responsible for an entire generation forsaking meat made me determined to slay it. I would need all my stealth and cunning and strength of arms to battle the beast, since I had no weapon, but I was confident I could – and would – prevail. Prevailing would be easier, I admitted to myself, had I Loki’s stealth and cunning to aid in the attempt, but my own would simply have to suffice.

She glanced toward the rear of the establishment whence her fellow sorceress had disappeared. “God, I hope she’s okay,” she muttered, granting me a look almost as unfavorable as that which Jane had done earlier. “You just had to talk about ‘bones for soup’ and ‘organs’. What were you going to suggest we do with those? Cook ‘em?”

“Of course,” I answered. “The heart to give courage, the brain to grant wisdom, the liver for strength, the . . .”

“Enough!” One hand rose to her mouth as she hurried from the table. “Be right back.”

I glanced at Selvig who shrugged and shook his head, and we waited. And we waited. After some measure of time, Darcy returned, looking even paler than was her usual wont, picked up her outer covering from the back of her chair and motioned us to follow. “Time for Bambi,” she said.

“Seen it,” Selvig claimed. “I’ll wait here for Jane in case she needs some help getting back. You can babysit.”

How strange these creatures were. Striking children brought them fame and now we were to sit on an infant? Had Father, perhaps, sent me here to instruct these people in the proper care of their young? And, if so, how did he expect me to do so? I knew nothing of the raising of children. I had not Loki’s skill with words and to treat these witches as they deserved – and as I wished – would only serve to reinforce their violent tendencies.

I watched as Darcy retrieved yet another small box from between the cushions of a covered bench. I could almost hear Loki asking, as he’d done before my coronation, “Nervous, brother?”

I’d not deny it this time. How could I? I had much reason, after all, to be uneasy. She had stricken me senseless, for a day at least, with her tazer-box and stolen a portion of my spirit – a small portion, true, but I mourned the loss nonetheless – with her phone of I.

“Now,” the young woman said, aiming the box at me for a moment. “Prepare to be amazed.” I froze. “No, really, you’ll be amazed. Disney is the best.”

Best at what, I wondered. I had seen no animal as yet, but I wished she would stop pointing her little box at me.

Almost as though reading my mind, she turned and pointed her little box toward a much larger box on the wall, then pressed a button.   There was sound, voices singing some insipid melody, and colored pictures of a forest appeared where there had been nothing but what seemed to be a black glass window before. “There’s some time before anything really starts,” Darcy exclaimed, pulling me to my feet. “We can pop some corn, make some nachos quick and get back in time for the show.”

What could she wish to show me now? I had thought we were to see the Disney creature which had so ruined the diets of near an entire generation, or the Bambi which made Jane ball out her eyes.

What were these nachos and popped corn? Was that similar to the popped tarts? I certainly hoped they were not, for truly those were some of the foulest things ever I had eaten.

“The Prince is born! A new little Prince is born!” There was the sound of much excitement coming from the other room, such as I was sure there had been at my own birth, and Loki’s, too. Was this prince the Disney Darcy spoke of, or the Bambi? Ignoring the popping corn and melting cheese for her nachos, Darcy and I rushed into the ‘living’ area, hoping to see this being all were so eager to welcome. How surprised I was to see birds, rabbits and other small forest creatures gathered around a doe and her fawn. Where were the people we had heard welcoming their Prince?

I glanced at Darcy who motioned me to silence as she hurried back into her little cooking space, returning with a bowl of the popped corn and another of chips covered in the cheese mixture. Thus far, I saw nothing to indicate any reason to change my eating habits, and wondered how these pictures had so corrupted the youth of this realm. They must, I thought, be extremely weak-minded. Yes, the deer and other creatures were fair to look upon, even in this odd picture form. But they were even more lovely when found in the forests and fields of Asgard and beauty alone was no reason I could see for not eating.    

On the magic box, the doe nuzzled her fawn, the animals seemed welcoming and one little rabbit asked the young Prince’s name. The doe spoke to the little creatures standing about. “His name is Bambi,” she said, and I froze in shock. The animals in this realm spoke as men? Indeed, this was a realm of wonder and magic, and I thought even Loki, as familiar as he was with the magic of Alfheim and Vanaheim, might be amazed by it. The pictures my brother had drawn as a child on many of the palace walls had not often moved so, nor did they speak, which made sense as the animals of Asgard had no power of human speech.

It seemed time passed very quickly, for but a few moments had passed and the young deer was walking and learning the names of the plants and creatures around him. Then there came a storm such as I could call and I thought how much I missed Mjolnir. The doe was wise as she taught her child the dangers of the wild.

On the meadow the young one met another fawn who reminded me much of Loki in the tricks she played.   There, also, was a great herd of deer – young bucks, mostly – who played at fighting one another and a huge old buck with mighty antlers.   I sighed, thinking of the prize he would make if only the creatures in this realm had not human thought and speech.

Then there came a rushing of birds and other forest creatures as they all fled some unknown terror. As they raced, a loud crashing followed them, much like the explosions I imagined Loki’s fireworks might have caused.

Winter came, followed by the beginning of spring and as the young fawn nibbled at grass, the doe ordered him to flee. Why I did not understand until loud crashing noises rang out and I glanced at Darcy in question.

“Hunters with guns,” she responded.

“What are ‘guns’,” I asked.

“Weapons that make that loud noise and can kill from a distance,” she answered.

“They can kill farther than with a bow?” She nodded. I frowned and stood, eager to have Mjolnir in my hand. “They would slay a doe with young?” Again, she nodded. “They are the worst kinds of cowards to kill from afar,” I announced and Darcy sighed in agreement, a tear trickling down her cheek.

I did not understand the tears, until later when the old buck told the fawn that his mother would no longer be with him. “Slain?” I wondered but would not ask, as my throat grew tight and my eyes burned.   How I longed to punish these hunters as they deserved. On Asgard, we killed for food but these men seemed to kill for sport and never would we slay a mother with young at her side.

More time passed as the fawn grew into a young buck. Many were the adventures I was sure he would have in such a dangerous realm – the greatest danger being the young female he had met earlier. And, as I watched, I was proven right. Indeed, such a danger was she that he was forced to fight for his life against an older buck. Being the prince that he was, however, he prevailed and won the admiration of the doe, even as I emerged victorious in my own battles and did win the admiration and favor of many a maid.

More hunters appeared – a great number of them – with many of these ‘guns’. Animals once again fled, pursued by the loud banging and by huge slavering beasts like unto the wolves that prowled the woods of Alfheim. This seemed most unfair. We fought one another in the training ring for our sport and battled our enemies. We rejoiced in the victories and mourned those we lost. Never did we hunt those who thought as we thought. Nor did we enlist their natural enemies against them for our benefit.

We watched as the wolves – dogs, Darcy corrected – attacked the little doe the young Prince had befriended.   She fled and the dogs followed. Where was Bambi, I wondered. Why did he not come to her rescue? That was what I would have done, should my beloved be assaulted so. Or so I told myself as I had no ‘beloved’, for I had found no woman worthy.

At last, the young Prince appeared and fought off the beasts surrounding his female. As she escaped and he fled after her, another loud crash sounded and he fell. I glanced at Darcy in question, but she shook her head. Was that in sadness or denial? These mortals were so confusing – the same physical signals could mean something entirely different.

As the wild creatures fled, we were shown a campsite and a small flame left unattended. “Careless of them,” I thought to myself. Darcy seemed to agree for she sat on the edge of her chair, popcorn and nachos quite forgotten as she clasped her hands in her lap. A small spark leapt from the fire’s circle and raced along the ground. “What fools,” I raged and Darcy jumped. “Do they not know to clear an area around their fire to prevent just such a thing?” The first – and last – time Loki or I had done such a thing, Father had beaten us both until it pained us to sit even for meals. Soon a mighty conflagration raged, engulfing all the forest and I winced remembering how angry Father had been and ours not near so large. I remembered, as well, how easy it had been to try to let Loki shoulder the burden of guilt, for even then he’d been known for mischief and a fondness for fire. Fandral had joked once that Loki might – had his hair been red instead of black – be suspected of being part Fire Giant. Father had been unamused.  

Despite my concern for the young Prince, my stomach rumbled. It had, after all, been some time since I’d eaten and that meager fare, on Asgard, would not have sustained me long enough to make my way to the training grounds, let alone actually ‘train’. If these witches expected me to ‘work’, their provisions must prove more substantial by far. I glanced toward the bowl sitting, all but ignored, by Darcy’s chair. I had no idea what ‘nachos’ were but I recognized the melted cheese, some form of what appeared to be ground meat, a lump of white cream and another greenish lump atop it all. Buried underneath this mess were some of the crisps I’d seen Darcy munching in days past.

I reached in and grabbed a handful. “Watch the jalapenos,” Darcy muttered, eyes never leaving her magic window. “They’re kind of hot,” she added as my hand reached my mouth and I bit down. The warning came too late. My tongue felt as fiery as the flames from that campfire.   I stumbled from my chair in search of anything to quench the burning.

“Milk’s in the frig,” she called as I staggered into the cooking area. What was a ‘frig’? Frigid I understood. Jotunheim was frigid. The lake in the mountains where Loki nearly drowned, one summer before he learned to shift his shape, was frigid. Some in Asgard – Sif being first amongst that number – claimed Loki’s heart was frigid.

By the time I returned to my seat, having discovered the cooling box and drunk an entire container of cold milk, the fire was gone, the season had changed and the young Prince stood on a hill overlooking the valley. Beside him stood his Father and my eyes grew wet. Just so should I have stood with my Father, proud beside me, had I not been cast out. I still could not believe he had done so nor could I completely understand the reason.

In a thicket below, the young doe Bambi had rescued from the wolf beasts nuzzled two fawns.   Despite the understanding Sif and I had had once ages past, I could not picture her either needing rescue or allowing any male such liberties as a reward. No, Sif was more like to strike with fist and staff and rescue herself and her companions. And never could I imagine the Lady Sif laying abed, surrounded by gawkers, with even one babe at the breast, let alone two.

Neither Jane nor Selvig had yet returned and Darcy seemed on edge, pushing buttons on her little ‘remote’ and changing the scenes on the magic window.

One scene showed a spider spinning words in her web; another showed hairy creatures keeping men as slaves. Still others fowl of various kinds speaking and acting as did we.

I could hardly believe my eyes and ears. “What is that creature?” I asked, trying to close my ears to its most annoying vocalizations. “Its voice offends me. I wish to slay it.”

Darcy glared, aiming her little remote at me. “That’s ‘Donald Duck,” she grated out. “And this is how we ‘slay’ him here.” She aimed her little box at the magic window and pressed a button. “There,” she said. “He’s banished for now.”

I cringed. Was banishment here that simple? This woman had more power at her fingertips than Father with his staff or mine wielding Mjolnir? I wondered what Loki would make of this realm. Would I ever see him again to tell him of it?

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. I had worn the clothing of a ‘Donald’ who was the ‘X’ belonging to Jane. Did one’s clothing in this realm magically shrink and grow to fit the wearer for the ‘Donald’ on the box seemed much smaller than was I. “Is that Donald that you banished the “X” Lady Jane mentioned?” I asked.

Darcy twisted in her chair. “What?” she all but shrieked. “That’s a duck. Jane would never date a duck, even one as famous as Donald. Are you out of your frigging mind?”

“Honey, I’m home,” sang a familiar yet strange voice as Jane and Selvig staggered into the room.

I stared at Darcy who stared back. “Not one word,” she hissed. “Not one word about ‘Donald’, you hear me?” I nodded. What was wrong with her two companions? Had Jane become so ill she could no longer walk? Had Selvig also fallen to this plague, whatever it was?

Jane tumbled into Darcy’s lap. “Good news,” she murmured waving a finger at me. “Starting Monday, you have a job.”

“Cool,” Darcy exclaimed, trying to stand and ease Jane into the chair. “Whereabouts?”

“Izzy’s giving him a trial,” Selvig responded.

A ‘trial’, I wondered. “Why am I to be put on trial?” I asked. “I have committed no crime.” I had committed no crime that I knew of in this realm, though the laws might be such that I had erred unknowing.

“He means, she’s going give you a job on a trial basis,” Darcy explained. I frowned. “That just means you’ll be working for her and you’ll both see how it goes. Hopefully, it’ll work out.”

My mind grew only more confused but I refrained from questioning further. Monday I would find myself with a ‘job’ that would, apparently, go somewhere and ‘work out’. In the meantime, I carried the bowl of nachos to the eating area and dug in, after retrieving another bottle of the milk from the cooling box. A man could only go so long without fainting from hunger and I had eaten nothing since breaking my fast this morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a HUGE thank-you to Crazy_Cat_Lady for filling in plot-holes (not that this thing has much plot as yet, but we are hoping to get to it eventually) and catching an absolute multitude of niggling little errors in grammar and punctuation. Ye gods and me a former English major, too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth takes some getting used to

I woke at daybreak the morning after viewing the Bambi’s story, feeling somewhat out of sorts. I was not unwell, exactly, though my stomach did make sounds of complaint and my slumber had not been restful. Indeed, I had been plagued by troubled dreams throughout the night. I put the blame for that on Darcy’s nachos and the milk which I had drunk. I had not partaken of that beverage since my nursery days and even then had much preferred other forms of liquid sustenance. Then, too, my unsettled nerves might well have been due to the most unpleasant discovery I had made that nearly all the animals in this Hel’s blasted realm spoke near as well as most men of my acquaintance and better than some others.

I had found it nearly impossible to refrain from weeping at the plight of the little Nemo fish, lost in the great ocean, for he brought to mind my own unfortunate situation. His travails and my own were both the result of defying our Fathers. But where his father searched the wide ocean for his son, I wondered did my Father or Mother search for me as Nemo’s father did for him? Surely some of my friends must be looking for me, whether in Mother’s scrying bowls or in the Observatory where Heimdall stood guard.

Even the spiders in this world provided advice and comfort to both their fellow creatures and mortal men. The spider, Charlotte, could spell in her webbing better than I had done at my lessons as a boy. I wondered, given the intelligence of their fellow creatures, how any of my companions could bring themselves to eat the bacon or roasts of pork or beef they heaped upon their plates.

For the next few days, I kept to my vow never again to partake of the flesh of the creatures found upon this realm, but it was difficult to sit and watch Darcy, Jane and Selvig eating ‘hotdogs’ (I shuddered at the thought of eating one of Fandral’s or Volstagg’s pets), hamburgers (made of ground beef not of ham at all) and chicken ‘nuggets’. What part of the chicken a ‘nugget’ might be I had no idea, nor did I particularly wish to discover it.

A thin noodle called spaghetti with a thick and spicy red sauce appeared to be a staple of their diet whenever their funds were low, which seemed to happen far too frequently.   I had to wonder why Jane and Darcy seemingly found no difficulty eating the meat ‘balls’ when the very mention of cooking and eating heart, liver or kidney had made them so ill.  

Several days passed and still I wondered when this Monday (and the start of my new duties) might arrive, even going so far upon one of those days as to ask Selvig, who seemed more apt to know than either of the women. Selvig looked at me oddly when I approached him and I felt my face flush with anger. It was not embarrassment I felt, of this I was certain.  It was not through any fault of mine I knew not how they might count the days. “The days are not named in Asgard,” I said quickly, more in explanation than excuse. I was a Prince of Asgard, despite my banishment, and had no need to offer up excuses or explanations to these mortals.   So why was I attempting to explain myself?

The old wizard frowned and I felt my irritation growing. How I wished again for my brother’s presence for Loki had always enjoyed acting the tutor and hearing the sound of his own voice ‘imparting knowledge’. Sif had often claimed he simply liked making the rest of us feel like fools.

“Our days are numbered,” I said, as patiently as I was able, “from the New Moon.” His confusion seemed not to lessen and so I continued. “So, you would say, I was born on the twelfth day of the Mid-Summer Moon in the seven-hundred-and-fortieth year of my Father’s reign.”

It occurred to me suddenly that I had no memory of my brother’s birth or of Mother or Father planning excitedly for that event as I had seen Volstagg and Hildy do on occasions almost too numerous to count. I was aware we celebrated his arrival on the Winter Solstice but had he actually been born then?

It seemed to me Jane was too often occupied with her study of the stars and Darcy’s days were increasingly spent in either the charting of graphs for her fellow sorceress or questing with invisible companions over the Skype. I was left much to myself and my increasingly uncomfortable thoughts. These people had their own lives and interests in which I played no part. And, while they seemed content to have it so, I found myself longing to be a part of something larger than myself, as I had been in Asgard.

I spent much of my days in front of the magic box, seeking to learn more of this realm. “We have books,” Jane told me once, but I had never been much of a reader.   That was ever my brother’s joy. I had always preferred more active pursuits.

While Jane and Selvig studied the heavens and Darcy made notations upon their charts, I endeavored to learn more of this strange realm upon which I found myself. Darcy had shown me the use of her ‘remote’ and I found myself intrigued by the wonders it showed me.   I did not understand, at first, why they called it so as it seemed always to be close at hand and then I realized it was because the device was far-reaching as it pulled bits of the world into Darcy’s magic box for viewing and then banished them away once done.

There was one particular ritual I much enjoyed watching. A band of comely females in tight colorful costumes performed what appeared to be a battle-dance of some kind to the music of drums and trumpets. I studied their performances carefully as their leader chanted the steps and maneuvers and I attempted to emulate the more martial movements, thinking Sif might enjoy practicing the same should I ever find my way home. The use of colorful blocks and hoops confused me until I realized they served to increase the women’s flexibility and stamina. The thought of Sif in the same sort of clothing and performing such a ritual warmed my blood, though I doubted she would much appreciate the attention.

I also attempted to learn the uses of the objects in Darcy’s little kitchen, other than the ‘fridge’ as she called her cooling box, by listening and watching instructors in Darcy’s ‘television’ preparing meals. I had never imagined the process to be so complicated. Most of my efforts were met with some dismay by my companions and at last I was told to confine my attempts to instant oatmeal (not quite so ‘instant’ as they claimed) and ‘sandwiches’ which they said even I could not ruin. This was a great embarrassment to me as I had never before found myself unequal to any task.

One evening, I watched as a small creature called a ‘pooh’, together with a striped ‘tigger’, a piglet and a horse-like beast called an ‘eyore’, companioned a boy nearly of an age with the kitchen-lad in Asgard I had named ‘Freckles’. How I laughed as the pooh caught his head in a jar of honey for it reminded me much of Loki, who as a tiny lad had done nearly the same in his search for sweets. Nurse had been sorely affrighted when Father’s wolf, Geri, had begun lapping my brother’s face to cleanse it of the sticky mess but Loki had laughed, thrown his arms about the beast’s shaggy neck, and a moment later shifted his shape into that of a wolf cub.

On another, I watched in something like horror as a group of rabbits, forewarned in a vision by one of their number, fled their home and made their way through many dangers to a place of freedom and safety. I knew Mother had the Sight, though she spoke of it little, and now I wondered if my brother might have inherited that same Gift. Had Loki foreseen the disaster that my journey to Jotunheim was to be and thus endeavored to prevent my going? Had he feared our mockery and so not told us what he knew but instead merely argued against what he termed my ‘foolishness’? I wished now I’d listened more carefully to his arguments, for Loki had ever been one of my more thoughtful companions.

And, when I stood before Father and called him an old man and a fool, had Loki known then what would ensue? I remembered him trying to speak and Father roaring him to silence. Had Loki been trying to warn me to mind my tongue and temper or beg us both for calm?

For some hours each night, I watched Selvig and Jane at their studies and endeavored to understand what it was they did and why. Darcy attempted to explain once that they were searching for ‘wormholes’ which, did I believe her serious and not in jest, I would have thought foolish beyond measure. Why search the skies for the holes of worms when all knew the creatures tunneled beneath the earth?

I sometimes thought Jane looked at me oddly as I stood there though she never ordered me away or seemed annoyed by my presence. Indeed, I often found a smile upon her lips and a rosy blush upon her cheek.

Finally, one evening, I asked Jane what it was they sought.   “A bridge,” she replied, smiling.

“A Bridge,” I exclaimed. “What manner of Bridge?”   Was it possible she sought a way for me to return home?

“An Einstein-Rosen bridge,” was the answer I received – an answer which meant less than nothing to me for I had no idea what an Einsteinrosen might be. Was this their name for the Bifrost?

Each night as I slept I dreamed of rescue. Perhaps it would come as Jane led me to her Bridge of Stars or as Mother wove her tapestries, took pity on my plight and sent my friends to fetch me home. Perhaps it would come as Father, repenting his harsh words to his elder and most-favored son, ordered Heimdall to open the Bifrost.   Oddly, though, I most often dreamt it was Loki come to bring me home.  

Mornings I woke to disappointment. I was still in this realm of Newmexico and still banished. There had been no rescue and most likely there would be none. I would have to find my own way home and pray Father didn’t throw me out again before I had a chance to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thanks than I can ever really express to the wonderful Crazy_Cat_Lady for edits, encouragement and throwing wildly wonderful ideas at me when I'm in a rut.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor finally sees some nightlife and some action. A new character arrives on the scene.

And then, one evening, Darcy, Selvig and Jane drew on heavy fleece-lined outerwear and fairly pushed me out-of-doors. I resisted, naturally, but was no match for the three of them. Unless, that is, I wished to do them injury, which I did not.   Darcy seemed excited. Jane hummed a little tune and even Selvig smiled slightly, which caused me no little consternation. What did they have planned?

“Donald, the idiot, didn’t leave a coat,” Jane muttered as she closed the door. This I knew for I was wearing well-nigh everything he had left. Darcy had offered me one of her jackets but it was far too small and I refused to wear the sweater Jane offered.

“Where are we bound?” I asked, curious and a little uneasy as we walked I knew not where.

“We’re celebrating,” Darcy nearly crowed. “You’ve got a job starting tomorrow. Money will be coming in, not to mention Izzy’s promised you can eat there for free, at least on the days you actually work, which will save Jane a boatload since she won’t have to feed you.” She leaned toward Jane, grinning. “Any chance Izzy might feed us, too?”

A boatload of what, I wondered as Jane made a sound I had never heard from any of them before – something akin to that which a boar makes before it charges.  I had seen no boats, nor was I ever likely to see one in this barren wasteland. I had I seen not so much as a small stream, never mind a lake or river or ocean upon which a boat might actually sail with this ‘load’ that Jane would save.

“As if,” she replied. “I had to practically get on my knees and beg Izzy to give him this chance after he smashed that cup to smithereens. And Izzy wanted to know why ‘Donald’ doesn’t have papers, where we met and all the background about our ‘relationship’ since His Highness here’s an illegal alien and all.”

“Ohhhh,” Darcy chuckled, casting a sharp glance in my direction. “What’d you tell her?”

“Tell her about what?” Jane seemed to stumble over a space in the wooden planks we trod upon and I reached out a hand to catch her.

“About your ‘relationship’, of course,” Darcy answered with another sly glance in my direction.

I wondered, too, what my status might have to do with Jane’s ‘relationship. I was fairly certain they must be speaking of me, unless there was another prince here without the leave of their petty little king. For what king of any stature would keep his mages in such abject poverty? What king of courage and wisdom and determination would be content with such a barren little rock?

Jane shrugged. “What’s to tell?” she asked, but her face reddened slightly. Just so had I seen many a young maiden’s face redden whenever my friend, Fandral, appeared in their sight.

Darcy groaned and I wondered at her sudden pain. We had eaten nothing since before the noon hour, but she had seemed perfectly well then. “Give, Jane,” she commanded and Jane’s face reddened more deeply. “He’s hot, isn’t he? And you like him. Admit it.”

I wondered who they might be speaking of, for I had thought them discussing my future work with the old woman. I realized now that there had been a second conversation carried on between their two minds as I had seen Loki and Mother do on occasion and only now was it being spoken aloud. Almost I envied the ‘he’ they spoke of, though I’d not wish to be so over-warm as to be hot. I had never suffered overmuch from the heat as a child, though I remembered Loki had often seemed so uncomfortable in the summer that Mother had taken him to Vanaheim or Alfheim where the weather was cooler.

Jane threw up her hands and nearly struck me in the face. “Yes, “she cried. “I admit it. He’s hot and I like him, even if he does act crazy.” She whirled on her friend and fellow in wizardry. “But he’s my responsibility, too,” she continued. “I hit him with my car – twice.”

How many unfortunates had these women damaged with their vehicle? And then my own thoughts stumbled over their earlier conversation.

“Am I to pretend to be ‘Donald’?” I interrupted in some confusion. “I am Thor, son of Odin. Why can I not be who I am – Thor Odinson?” I would not ask what an ‘illegal alien’ might be. I knew what ‘aliens’ were. Even in Asgard there were those who came from afar and could not or would not adhere to our ways or be assimilated into our culture. Eventually they returned to their places of origin, for Asgard did not welcome those who would not conform.

I similarly understood the differences between something ‘legal’ – according to our laws – and something not. Those who broke the laws of Asgard were cast into the dungeons and never again saw the light of day. Or, depending on the severity of their crimes, justice was meted out by Father’s axe.

Jane glanced toward me. “You don’t have a visa, a passport, a green card or a Social Security card or any other form of identification, do you?”

I shook my head. I had no idea what these objects she spoke of were, let alone how to obtain such things. And what was this ‘relationship’ she spoke of, and with whom?  As far as I knew we had no ‘relationship’, though I realized I owed them much for their kindness in sheltering me after my escape from that most inhospitable ‘hospital’ where I had wakened after being struck by their vehicle.    

Surely I was not their prisoner, for If I was a prisoner, how could they dare to let me out of their sight long enough to work for this Izzy? Unless their magic was so powerful they had no fear I might escape? True, I was a stranger here and had no place to run to, but to be so dismissed was troubling.  

“Didn’t think so,” Jane muttered. “So, you’ll go by the name we gave you since it seems less alien than Thor and Izzy really doesn’t need ICE or the DHS or NSA snooping into her business. You’ll get your meals and she’ll pay you under the table . . .”

“Why must I be under the table in order to be paid?” I grumbled. Was it not enough I must work for my food? Now I must crawl or kneel under tables in order to receive the money needed to supplement Jane’s grants?   I had never, in all my life, knelt to anyone other than Father and was most loath to begin now. Truly, this seemed less and less like cause for celebration in my mind and I wondered how they could seem so cheerful at the humiliation I would suffer. Had Father meant to see me so degraded?

And what was this ICE they spoke of? Were there Frost Giants even here?   And if so, what positions did they hold that they would ‘snoop’ into an old woman’s business?

Darcy chuckled and Jane bit her lip while Selvig burst into laughter. I frowned. “Oh, God,” the old warlock gasped, holding his sides. “That was a good one.”

Darcy glanced my way and then bumped Jane’s shoulder. “I don’t think he was joking,” she said. “Were you joking?”

“I am the Crown Prince of Asgard,” I said through clenched teeth. “I kneel to no one.”

“Oh my God,” Jane said softly. “You’re serious.”

Selvig made that sign with his fingers twirling around his ears that I had seen days earlier.

“Please,” Jane said, pleading. “Please don’t say things like that in public. I mean, you seem like an okay guy, mostly, but that kind of talk is just crazy.”

“Were we in Asgard,” I growled, “I could order you thrown into the dungeons, there to live out the rest of your puny mortal lives.”

“Not in Asgard,”Darcy snapped and gave me a sharp jab in the ribs that nearly stole my breath. “New Mexico in the good ol’ US of A in the Northern hemisphere of Mother Earth and you’re not a prince or a king or anybody very important here. So button it before I seriously have to kick your ass.”

I jerked to a halt. Not important? I was the Crown Prince of Asgard, Queen of the Nine Realms. Of course I was important. I was the most important being on this flyspeck world – no matter what it was called.

“You would dare?” I cried. Never, in all my life, had a mere woman threatened me so. Far worse, however, was the knowledge that Darcy, small though she might be, was entirely capable of doing what she claimed with either her taser-box or her box of banishment. Worse yet was the certain knowledge that, were I returned to Asgard and Sif to hear such words as ‘mere woman’ fall from my lips, I would find myself flat on the ground with her staff at my throat in very little time.

It seemed inconceivable that this wretched place was Earth in truth. How could this be? What had happened to the forests and the rivers and snow-covered mountains? Where were the elk and bear and fish our devotees would bring to us on feast days? In fact, where were our worshipers and our temples?  

Perhaps, I reasoned, these people simply did not understand the relationship between the realms – they did not realize that Asgard ruled from the highest branches of the World Tree. We were the rulers, the protectors of all the Nine and they were merely the objects of our benevolance.

Jane buried her head in her hands. Selvig aimed a thumb heaven-ward and Darcy grinned. “Just keep quiet about your delusions – or not,” Darcy added quickly as I started to speak once more. “People here won’t appreciate you coming off like you think you’re royalty. Capiche?”

“But I am royal,” I protested. “My Father is king of Asgard and . . . “

“Crown Prince,” Darcy grumbled. “We know. You keep telling us, but not here.”

“We were worshipped as gods,” I muttered under my breath.

Darcy struck me again. “Operative words being ‘were worshipped’, in your dreams, maybe.”

“They were not dreams,” I grumbled. But almost I began to doubt. How could Earth have changed so much in so short a time? And, if dreams they were, how I wished I could return to my slumber.

“Here we are,” Selvig interrupted, opening a door leading to a cool, dark place. I could smell ale and the not entirely unpleasant odor of smoke. There was also that scent peculiar to men and women who’d spent much time laboring in the dust and heat of the surrounding countryside.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Here, at last,was a place that felt like home. How many nights had my friends and I spent in just such an establishment? Save for the lack of buxom barmaids, this might have been any one of a dozen such places in Asgard.

Jane and Darcy led me toward a cloth-covered table upon which sat a number of colored balls. Several men stood about the table, some holding sticks that resembled Sif’s sparring staves, save being somewhat shorter and thinner. I wondered if these men intended to perform some ritual with these weapons and glanced at Darcy in question, but she gave no answer all her attention being upon the men and their sticks.

Every once in a while one of the men would strike a ball and send it rolling across the table. Very often that ball would strike another and send it rolling into a hole on one side of the table or the other. For some time we watched and I wondered what possible purpose there might be in this.

“I love this game,” Darcy whispered, moving closer and dragging both Jane and I with her. “I used to play for shots in college,” she continued.

“Shots?” I asked in some confusion. One shot an arrow with a bow or a stone with a sling. I saw no such weapon here. And why would Darcy have played to be shot? Was her magic so powerful she had no fear of any injury?

Jane nodded and made an expression of disgust.

“What does she mean?” I asked Jane.

“Shots,” Jane hissed back, “are small glasses of whiskey, tequila, vodka or whatever.”

This served to lessen my confusion not at all. I still had only vague notions what tequila, vodka or whiskey might be, save that they were beverages of some kind. I could believe, given the general appearance of the establishment and the people therein, that all were a form of drink that would relieve any lingering tensions in those who partook of them. But were they superior or even equal to the mead and ale served in Asgard? Though I doubted it, I licked my lips and glanced about enviously at the men and women permitted such pleasures. I sighed for Jane’s expression told me she would not approve.

Jane and Darcy moved closer yet and I found myself wedged tightly between them. Helpless to move, I looked about for their sorcerer companion, Selvig, and found him over by the long wooden counter. Oh, how I wished to be there with him instead of here watching these men strike little balls with sticks.

“Here you go, kids,” Selvig announced, thrusting odd goblets of cold ale into our hands. I nodded my thanks and drank. It was not so fine as the mead or ale in the palace but it was better than the drink in the Wyvern.

Several of the other men glanced often at the women and I felt my hands clench and my shoulders stiffen. I wondered how they dared cast their eyes so brazenly upon such powerful witches and expected every moment that Darcy would ‘taser’ one of them or pull out her little remote and banish them to the netherworld as she had done the Donald.

Instead, she continued to watch, sighing ever so often until one of those wielding the sticks took notice. “Want to play, little girl?” he asked, laughing, and Darcy nodded. “We play pairs?” he asked.

Darcy pulled Jane forward and I found myself standing next to the wizard. “We’ll play for shots, if that’s okay,” Darcy suggested and I saw Jane wince. The dark-haired witch leaned closer to her companion. “You’re okay with this, right?”

I saw Jane nod as she picked up one of the sticks. “I’m not very good at this,” she said quietly.

“No problem,” Darcy chuckled. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

For long moments Selvig and I watched as the women played. Each time a ball rolled into the ‘pocket’ a small glass of liquid appeared as though by magic. Darcy drank as Jane passed her glass to me. I sniffed, half suspecting it might be nothing more than water. There seemed little enough scent to it, so I took a sip. The stuff was strange but hardly unpleasant and I wondered why Jane refused to partake. My limbs felt wonderfully relaxed and I let my mind drift as all the fears and anger at the circumstances in which I’d found myself eased.

Selvig nodded toward another table where two men sat across from one another. They clasped hands and began to strain. I frowned.

“Arm wrestling,” Selvig said in reply to my unspoken question.   “Want to give it a try?”

I nodded as he led me swiftly toward the table where one man had just forced his companion’s arm flat with a loud wrenching sound.  

“Watch a few rounds,” he whispered. “So you can get the hang of it.” I wondered at that for it seemed a simple enough test and not unlike those we had in Asgard, though ours did often tend to end in bruises, blood and broken bones. But that was what made a warrior – the ability to fight on through the pain.

After a short while, Selvig removed a thin leather object from his pocket and withdrew a greenish slip of vellum. “Five on Donny here against any one of you boys,” he shouted.

I felt myself swell with pride that he would have such faith in me and I determined not to fail him. My first two opponents were easily dispatched and I glanced about, hoping that Jane and Darcy had witnessed my triumph. Alas, their attention seemed still to be on their own contest. Every few moments a young woman in tight black clothing would lean close and set before me a glass of the clear liquid Jane still refused. I sniffed and tasted again, trying to remember where I might have had such before. Indeed, it reminded me – faintly – of the potato beverage fermented in Russe. None of us had been over-fond of that. I still thought it lacked potency, but it was drinkable and I wondered yet again why Jane refused it.

Each of my own victories brought forth another of a more amber-colored drink. I found the amber stuff more familiar as it seemed similar in color, scent and taste to the uisge my friends and I had been served when we visited the Fair Isles in the North Sea.

Selvig seemed pleased as more slips of green came into his hands. If my winning continued, perhaps I would not need to go work for Izzy on the morrow. That thought, coupled with the alcohol I drank, served to relax me in mind and body.

“At least make it a challenge for me,” I shouted when my last challenger had fallen far too quickly. How could I prove my prowess when all that came before me were these puny mortals?

The wizard suddenly seemed to think the drinks I was served might cause my strength to fail me for he began to signal an end to them. This I did not wish to see and so I hastened to reassure him.

“Never fear,” I said boldly. “I am accustomed to much more potent drink than this.” As I spoke I waved my hand, nearly spilling the tray held by another young woman who had just stepped up behind me.

“Don’t get cocky, lad,” Selvig warned and I grinned at him as I tossed back another glass.

“Fear not, friend Selvig,” I said, my courage and confidence fully restored. “I am Thor, the son of Odin, the son of Bor, Ruler of the Nine Realms.”   I might have continued in this same vein but one of the women behind me groaned and I heard Jane mutter an oath.

Behind me, where still they played, Darcy snorted laughter. “Too bad you couldn’t pull that off for the screen test,” she proclaimed loudly. “The guy from the studio called earlier and you’re not quite what they had in mind.”

“He’s perfect for what I have in mind,” a woman called out and those around her began to laugh.

Then there came one of a size like unto the Frost Giants I had battled on Jotunheim and, for a moment only, I felt my heart stutter within me. Selvig glanced my way, a question in his eyes. Could I do this? I had not my friends by my side nor had I Mjolnir to hand. Another glass appeared at my elbow and I drank gratefully as Selvig laid a hand on my shoulder. “Just say if you don’t think you’re up to it, Donny,” the old wizard said softly. Very nearly I took him at his word but then felt the presence of two others at my back and my resolve strengthened.   Jane and Darcy had at last left their contest and stood watching with eager eyes.

“I’ll lay a hun’erd on Russ,” shouted a voice from the back of the room and I felt Selvig tense beside me.   I set my feet more firmly upon the floor and threw back my shoulders. I could do this. Had I not defeated, this very night, all who had come before me? Some had been very large indeed though none quite so much so as this behemoth.

“Well?” someone asked. “Are we on or not?” I had no idea what I was supposed to be ‘on’ other than the chair upon which I sat but I motioned to the giant to take his own seat and placed my elbow upon the table in a position of readiness.

“You’re big,” I said. “But I’ve fought bigger.” Indeed, closer to he was not quite so large as the Jotnar but still towered over those who had challenged me earlier.

We battled long as the advantage passed first to one and then the other. Our sinews strained and muscles bulged. Sweat streamed down my face and stung in my eyes and my hair stuck to my scalp just as the rough shirt I wore stuck to my back, but neither of us would yield.

Every little while, my opponent would falter slightly and I would be reminded of my brother in the training yard. Just so, would Loki sometimes feign weakness and those against whom he competed were tempted into making foolish mistakes – even those who knew his tricks fell into the same error. Never could it be said my brother was one to let an opportunity go to waste, for when the opening presented itself, Loki struck swift and true.

I determined not to be so led into error. Instead, I began to watch him more closely and prepared myself for the time the brute across from me next made a pretense of tiring. Jane pressed tight against my back and I felt her breath warm on my neck. I clenched my teeth and refused to become distracted. Indeed, I felt her presence only served to fuel my determination and when next he wavered, I moved swiftly and, with a shout that rattled the rafters, slammed his arm down upon the table.

A mighty cheer rose from a dozen throats whilst another score – those who had wagered I would be defeated – cursed and groaned. I felt myself flush with pleasure as Jane threw her arms about my neck. Even here, on this little speck of dust, cast out upon the lowest and farthest branches of the World Tree – even as I was cast out of Asgard – I could be honored and admired for my prowess in battle. And to have the arms of a sorceress maid about my neck was a pleasure in its own right.

“What the hell kind of trick was that?” the man who had wagered the ‘hun’erd’ called out.

“Cheat,” another shouted and I stood. No one had ever dared call me ‘cheat’, though they’d accused Loki often enough. And now I felt ashamed that I had never spoken any word in his defense.  

“I am no cheat,” I shouted back amidst the rumblings of my supporters.

Selvig laid a hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, Donny. No big deal” he said but I shook him off.

“Indeed, it is a very ‘big deal’” I argued, growing angry that anyone should doubt either my strength or my integrity. “This man,” I went on, pointing at my erstwhile opponent, “tried to play me for a fool by a show of weakness. Is that not a ‘cheat’?”

“Yeah,” Darcy cried. “Donald’s no cheater.”

“Russ ain’t no cheat neither,” shouted the man at the back.

“Is too,” Darcy shrieked as the one who had called me ‘cheat’ lifted her off her feet.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jane cried as she dodged Darcy’s flailing feet and dove under the table. “Give the baby back his hundred.”

“Ain’t no baby, girl,” the man shouted.

“Double negative makes a positive!” Darcy shouted back as her elbow struck her captor in the nose. I raised a fist in salute. Small though she might be, she was still a fierce and mighty warrior.

Someone, I saw not who, shoved Selvig which caused a fellow nearby to careen into a table, spilling the drinks that sat upon it and causing those sitting there to rise up in wrath. Darcy at last brought her feet into contact with her captor’s knees, whereupon he cursed loudly and dropped her, feet-first, onto the floor where she proceeded to pummel him with her fists, shrieking all the while. At once I was most heartily glad I had refrained from further speech when she so ordered me.

“I ain’t no cheat,” the giant called Russ proclaimed, standing and heaving the table where Jane hid onto its side. He growled and lunged at me, eyes so filled with rage he saw not where Jane crouched and stumbled over her and into the wizard.   Selvig lifted a large pitcher of ale from another table and poured it over the monster’s head even as Jane scrambled for cover behind the drinking station.

Soon enough, fists flew in all directions as even those who’d had no part in the wagering took one side or another.   For long and long the battle raged, and more than once I wished for my friends to be by my side as I called down the storm with Mjolnir in my hand. How Fandral would enjoy this, I thought sadly as I felled another of my foes (of which there were many). Almost I began to doubt when and how this battle might end, for Father had bereft me not only of Mjolnir but the greater part of my power. And, too, I had not Loki by my side with his knives and his tricks and I sorrowed for this as well.

Of a sudden the doors to this tavern flew open and a man dressed all in black stormed through. A hunter I surmised him to be, for in his hands he carried a fine bow and on his back a quiver filled with oddly fletched arrows. He moved with uncommon grace and speed, and, yet again, was my brother brought to mind for Loki moved with much that same grace and speed when upon the hunt. I wondered if this man had Loki’s skill with the bow and wondered, too, why I thought so often of my brother here when I hardly thought of him at all in Asgard.

“Need a hand?” the man asked, grinning. “You look like you could use a hand.”

“I have two,” I responded, panting only slightly from my exertions. “I doubt a third would serve me any better.”

He laughed as he pulled an arrow from his quiver and fired once, pinning the arm of the knife-wielding man who’d first called ‘cheat’ to the wall. “An assist then,” he corrected, swinging his bow hard into the face of another large brute.

“An assist,” I called back, “would be most welcome, friend.”

Though we fought valiantly, still our foes kept returning to the fray. The man pulled one last arrow from his quiver. “Come with me, if you want to live,” he shouted over the thunder of battle and sped toward the tavern doors, heaving bodies aside as he wove through the crowd. Darcy ceased her pummeling. Jane crept out from behind the long counter and sprang after.

“Move! Move!” Barton shouted from the doorway. “For Pete’s sake, move your ass!”

Almost I wished to ask who this ‘Pete’ might be, but Selvig smashed one last pitcher over the head of another villain, grabbed my arm and rushed me out into the darkness following the archer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Crazy_Cat_Lady who's seen way more of this chapter than any one person should have to. Without her input, this would make way less sense than it does.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm from the government and I'm here to help."

For long and long we fled, until Barton at last deemed it certain we were not pursued. It seemed cowardly to me to flee so, but I surmised Barton meant to protect his king’s wizards and would need my aid to do so.

“Was this not living?” I shouted as the women disappeared around a corner.

Barton turned to me and slapped a hand upon my shoulder. “Living? Oh, Hel, yeah it was!” He grinned suddenly – triumphantly – but the expression did not sit easy on his face. Indeed, it seemed almost as though he was unfamiliar with such a thing. “Great brawl, but seriously, buddy, we need to move,” he continued, as he turned once more and began to trot quickly down the lane in the direction the women had taken.

Had we not been moving?   It seemed to me we had been moving very rapidly, indeed. Beside me, Selvig bent closer, gasping.

“I have not felt so much alive since coming to this realm,” I complained to the wizard who still held my arm in a grip that had begun to shake. I shook my head and heaved the magician over my shoulder and followed after the archer.

We paused a moment later before a large window, covered in the same clear crystal as seemed so pervasive here. The archer turned to me once more and held out a hand. “Clint Barton,” he said. “Looking for a Dr. Foster?” His words made a question as he glanced about.

“Donald Blake,” I replied, clasping his arm in a warrior’s grip. I spoke the name the women had given me uneasily for the lie sat strangely on my tongue.   This was the name of Jane’s ‘ex’ which I had recently come to realize meant this ‘Donald’ was a former lover and I wondered if she perhaps harbored a desire for me to take his place. I realized I would not be displeased if she did harbor such feelings, for she was fair and clever – for a mortal and a woman – and I, unlike my brother, had never been an advocate of restraint in such matters.

“Dr. Foster,” I went on quickly, pointing toward Jane, “was the woman behind the shelving.” Why had she chosen to hide when Darcy had fought like a dire-cat defending her cubs?

He looked at me strangely. “You’re Blake, huh?”

I felt myself flush with embarrassment even as I nodded. A man of honor did not lie so to a fellow warrior and this Clint Barton had fought by my side, putting himself in harm’s way when he knew me not. Loki might have found the lie easier to speak, for he was often called upon by our Father to do so in the service of diplomacy.

The archer shrugged. “Okay, if you say so,” he said, grinning again, as he strode toward where Jane stood, nervously wringing her hands and biting her lip. He approached the woman as cautiously as one might approach an angry bilgesnipe and I wondered if even the servant of their king feared Jane’s power. I glanced over toward Darcy and thought he might be wiser to fear her, for she was fiercer by far and wielded the power of the taser and seemed not near as trusting as Jane. I turned back to watch more closely his approach and Jane’s reaction.

“Government, I’ll bet,” Darcy whispered, close enough to startle me.

I took a breath. What was this realm doing to me that I could be losing my senses as well as my power? Had I been so intent on watching Barton with Jane that I had missed her movement entirely?

“He is from your government? Then why is Jane so uneasy?” I could not but wonder at that.   I knew what it meant to govern or rule, for that would have been my duty had I not failed so spectacularly on Jotunheim. Was this man, then, an emissary from their king, or the king’s representative to this area of the realm? Perhaps he brought Jane’s grant money and I could, in truth, begin a search for a way to end my banishment. “Is this not a good thing? Surely, your governor should provide for you so that you might continue in your king’s service.”

Darcy looked at me as though I was mad and, again, I felt myself flush. Did I not understand the relationship between the rulers and their wielders of magic? If this was Midgard, as Darcy had said, surely the same laws applied here as in Asgard.

“Dr. Foster?” the man asked quietly and held out a hand. He reminded me then, yet again, of my brother, for just so could Loki calm a frightened horse or angry wolf. Jane swallowed hard but gathered her courage and nodded as she returned his clasp. “Clint Barton,” he went on.

“I heard,” Jane said quietly. “You’re looking for me? Why?”

Selvig seemed to recover, somewhat, and pounded my shoulder as an indication he wished to be set down.   “I’m okay, now, Donny,” he grumbled. “Not a baby. Need to get closer and listen.” I did as he asked, though I determined to watch him more carefully henceforth, lest he weaken again. I had not realized how fragile these mortals were, though Darcy seemed strong enough for such a little thing.

“I’m with S.H.I.E.L.D.” Barton said as though that explained everything. It explained nothing to me, though it appeared to mean much to Darcy, who gasped and gripped my arm hard enough to make me frown. I saw no shield on the man’s person. Where could such a thing be hidden and still serve as protection? Could the magic of this place be such as to render it invisible?

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Jane nearly squeaked. “What does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with me?”

Barton shrugged. “Boss has the details, Dr. Foster. He’s waiting back at your lab. But, putting it simply, we have a couple of research projects for you and Dr. Selvig, if you’re interested.”

Jane seemed to breathe easier and, again, I wondered at the relationship here between magician and ruler.   The mention of ‘research’ seemed to both calm and excite her, much as Loki’s explorations in the realms of magic did him.

It did not seem so for the wizard, however, for I saw him flinch. How strange this realm seemed to me where wizards and magi trusted not their governors but rather feared them and the governors feared also the magi. How could the realm survive like this with each power struggling against the other?

And now I began to think, too, how well my brother might have adapted to this little realm and how his mind and Jane’s might have meshed to the benefit of both Asgard and Midgard and almost I began to wish he might have been banished with me. But that was a selfish wish and unworthy. Loki had tried – desperately – to dissuade me from my foolish course, and I was sure he had tried, there in the Observatory, to reason with Father (and me) before our argument resulted in such fateful consequences.

“What sort of project?” Jane asked as we began to walk again, only to stop before a large black vehicle. “I’m an astrophysicist. Aren’t you guys all spies and assassins and such?”

The archer smiled as Jane flushed. “Not all, Doctor. We have a few ‘normal’ people, just like you, on retainer.” He paused, seeming to rethink his words. “Well, maybe not just like you,” he corrected and I wondered what he might mean by that.

“You brought a car?” Jane asked in disbelief staring at the machine. “The lab’s just down the street.”

“Please get in, Dr. Foster, Dr. Selvig,” instructed the man at the controls.

Darcy gripped her fellow witch’s arm and pulled her back while the wizard looked on nervously. “We can walk,” she said firmly as I felt my shoulders tighten.

Barton had fought by my side and I thought, perhaps, we might trust him to some small extent, but this man was an unknown and something within me liked him not. He seemed too ‘smooth’ in both body and manner and it put my teeth on edge for he reminded me too much of the eunuch who was Master of Spies in the historical I had viewed for some weeks with Darcy. She had tried to interest me in the books, but the words tumbled around before my eyes and I could make no sense of them.

I had always thought myself a good judge of a man’s worthiness and I did not trust this one.   It seemed that Darcy shared my distrust, for she pulled Jane ever farther away and Selvig now, too, retreated.

“Barton,” the man said quietly. “You did tell them what we needed, right?”

Barton nodded. “Yeah, and Dr. Foster seemed interested.” He glanced at Jane. “Boss is at your lab, like I said. We’ll drop your friends off, pick up Agent Coulson and all go out to the site and show you and Dr. Selvig part of what I was talking about.”

Darcy shook her head. “Janie’s not going anywhere without me and Donald,” she protested. “No way, no how.” She seemed most emphatic and I doubted these men had any idea who (or what) they were dealing with.

I was heartily pleased that she had included me in that statement, for truly I liked not the thought of either Jane or Selvig in company with this too-smooth man. His very smoothness unnerved me and made me think of those giants of Jotunheim and Muspelheim who also were lacking any hair, though I knew not whether this was by nature, or if they denuded themselves by blade or by magic so’s to deny their enemies purchase in battle.

Though this man wore a fine suit (I’d seen such in a book of Darcy’s with the initials GQ and apparently men of distinction wore such things) and the giants went about either naked or with only a scrap of cloth about their loins, I had no doubt he was as slippery and treacherous as they.

Barton looked at the other man. “What do you think, Sitwell?”

“Absolutely not,” was the answer. “It’s top secret, Clint. Need to know only, and the intern and the boyfriend don’t need to know. You know that.”

I frowned for I was not best pleased when they spoke of secrets. Father had had secrets. His treaty with the Frost Giants was one such and I wondered how many others he had. I wondered, too, if Loki or I would ever be told of them. I was also angered to hear him speak in so slighting a manner of Darcy, who was a most powerful witch in her own right. Had she not struck me down with her taser-power? And was I not the second-most powerful being in all the Nine Realms? Only All-Father Odin was greater than I.

And to hear myself referred to as a ‘boy’ – no matter ‘friend’ or ‘foe’ – was humiliating. I was a man, a Prince of Asgard. I was no boy. Almost I opened my mouth to speak, but Selvig laid a hand on my shoulder and shook his head. I subsided, though I was still angry.

Barton sighed when it appeared none of us wished to enter their vehicle. “Go on ahead, Sitwell,” he said. “I’ll walk along with Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig and try to explain why their friends can’t join them out at the site.”

The man called ‘Sitwell’ moved a stick inside the vehicle and it began to move, rumbling crossly as it did so. “Agent Coulson wanted to see them ASAP,” he said. “Try to move it along, will you?”

I was most eager to hear their reasoning as to why Darcy and I could not also go to this ‘site’ where Jane and Selvig were to ‘research’, and so endeavored to keep myself close as we walked.  

“I thought you were going to explain,” Jane muttered, when Barton spoke no word of their plans but instead talked of weather and land formations and a circus where he had performed and other such inconsequential matters.

He turned about and grinned at me. “Your boyfriend’s hovering,” he replied.   “This is top secret stuff – need to know only and he doesn’t need to know. Sorry.”

Jane sighed. “Donald is not my boyfriend,” she said as she, too, turned to me. “Can you please back off a little? I’d kind of like to know what Erik and I are getting into before we meet this Coulson guy.”

I grumbled to myself but did as she asked. I had no wish to anger her or keep Barton from speaking of important matters. And I thought perhaps, once she learned what was wanted of her she might see fit to share that knowledge with me. I glanced back at the wizard and Darcy and fell into step beside them.

Darcy seemed unconcerned now that the vehicle and its master had gone, for she walked with dancing step beside the wizard, holding her Pod-of-I in one hand and humming to herself.  “Not to worry,” she said brightly. “Janie can’t keep any secrets from me.” She chuckled wickedly and I found myself smiling back.  

After a time, we spied Jane’s laboratory and the black vehicle we’d seen earlier stopped before it. Erik still seemed uneasy and I leaned near to ask him why.

“A guy I used to know,” he said quietly. “Brilliant scientist was doing some work with the military studying gamma radiation.” I must have looked as puzzled as I felt for he breathed deep and clenched his hands to stop their shaking. “There was an accident,” he continued when he calmed a little. Darcy, meanwhile, had put away her Pod-of-I and was listening intently to the tale.

“Is that where S.H.I.E.L.D. came in?” she asked and the wizard nodded. “See, I knew they were hinky,” she muttered. “Barton may be okay; he seems like a straight-up guy, after all, but that Sitwell guy – no way. He gives me the willies.”

As we walked, Barton raised a hand and spoke into the air. “We’ve got company, sir.”

I looked about but saw no one. The roads seemed empty save for we five.

“Yes, sir,” Barton continued, though I could neither see nor hear anyone else. “The boyfriend, Blake, though she says he’s not a ‘boyfriend’.” He glanced over his shoulder at me and I felt myself flush. “He says he’s Blake, sir, not sure I want to call him a liar without backup.”

I turned my attention back to the wizard, where at least I might learn something of this S.H.I.E.L.D. “And what happened to your friend?” I asked, as a chill crept up my spine.  

Just as one of their scientists, as they called their wizards, could have an ‘accident’ testing things they did not fully understand at the command of their rulers, so too, could my brother. Yes, Loki was careful, but so had Selvig’s friend been careful, I was sure. And Loki was often too curious for his own (and others’) good.

“Never saw him again,” the old man – for suddenly he seemed old indeed – replied.   Never had I heard such a tale of woe and I wondered if Selvig’s friend was dead, or merely vanished, and by whose hand.   In either case, even the telling seemed to disturb the old wizard greatly.

We all three sighed as we stepped into Jane’s laboratory and I stopped, staring in shock at the man standing before Jane. From what Barton and the machine’s controller had said, I had expected one similar to Father (albeit with two good eyes).   Their words had led me to believe this Coulson a man of stern and imposing mien – tall and powerful - not this quiet sober little man in a plain dark suit of clothing.

“You’ve done some very interesting work here, Dr. Foster,” he said, his voice as quiet as his manner and even my ears had to strain to hear all his words. “Some of this equipment is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and we have some pretty decent engineers on staff. Might I ask where you got it?”

Jane frowned slightly. “I had to make a lot of it,” she said. “Money’s kind of tight and I couldn’t just run down to Radio Shack and buy everything – not out here, anyway.”

He smiled. “So I gathered. I thought about asking if we could borrow . . . “

“No!” Jane exclaimed, then flushed and stammered. “I mean, I don’t like to let it out of the lab. Some of it’s pretty fragile. You understand.” She glanced almost helplessly at the wizard.

I saw Selvig wince and Darcy bite her lip to stifle a chuckle.

The Son-of-Coule nodded. “Perfectly,” he went on easily. “Actually, after looking around a bit . . .“

He paused and frowned. “I hope you don’t mind my looking around, but I get bored just sitting.”

Jane shook her head. “Why would I mind? Of course I wouldn’t mind. You didn’t break anything, did you?” she asked with a tiny laugh.

The Son-of-Coule smiled again – a very tiny smile like those Mother called ‘rueful’.   “I may have disrupted things a little,” he said. “You had some very interesting photographs up on your whiteboard.” He glanced at me as he spoke and I felt a shiver run up my spine.   Why did this man look at me so strangely? He knew nothing of me nor I of him and yet I felt as one of the men in a story Loki had read to me once, ‘as though someone had walked over my grave’. I had no idea what that meant, but it seemed fitting.

“Had?” Jane asked weakly.

“I’m really terribly sorry,” he said awkwardly. “Like I said, I get bored just sitting, and being something of an amateur astronomer myself, your star charts and photos seemed a little bit more interesting than sorting through my Captain America trading cards again.”

Darcy choked on a laugh and I very nearly found myself grinning though I did not understand the jest. Who was this Captain of America and why did he have cards to trade?

Jane seemed to grow pale and Selvig placed an arm about her shoulders. “What happened?” the wizard asked.

The Son-of-Coule shrugged and touched a cup sitting in a puddle of dark liquid. “I spilled coffee on a couple,” he said, still looking at me. “Totally ruined, I’m afraid.” He glanced quickly at Jane. “You do have backups, don’t you? I’d hate to think I’d done any lasting damage.”

Jane nodded. “Yes, I’m sure we have everything backed-up, don’t we, Darcy?”  

“Yep,” Darcy said, striding toward the table and grasping a roll of their paper sheets as she moved.   I almost laughed aloud then at how very much she reminded me of Sif – smaller and slighter but just as fierce a warrior and so very plain-spoken. “We’re absolutely backing up everything here.” She looked and sounded as though she did not quite believe what was being said around her.

I tried to recall what I had seen of the pictures on Jane’s board, but they had not previously captured my attention and nothing came to mind.  I had been, I supposed, too focused on my own misfortune to pay much attention to the doings of these mortals, save where it directly affected me.   This son-of-Coule was behaving too much like Loki in the midst of some trick for me to entirely trust that Jane’s pictures had been destroyed, as he claimed; but if they had not, where were they now and why was he deceiving us?

“That’s good,” Coulson said with another of those tiny grins and a small sigh of what seemed to me relief. “I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot . . . “

“Like you haven’t already,” Darcy muttered under her breath and Jane hissed a quiet warning. What could these people do that a witch of Darcy’s or Jane’s power and ability must fear to speak their mind? And then I remembered how punishments most dire had fallen on wizards and magi in other courts – Father’s included – when words were spoken or actions taken that displeased the rulers. Such punishments were rarer than rare in Father’s court, for he was a most benevolent ruler and took great care of his magi. Perhaps the rulers here were not so careful of their wizards, nor so willing to listen?

Barton had thrown himself into a chair nearby and sat with his feet upon Darcy’s computer desk. “Boss?”

Coulson glanced up. “Oh, right. Thanks, Hawkeye.” He glanced at Jane and Darcy and waved a hand toward two other chairs. “This might take some time and I’ve been on my feet all day.” He waited while the witches sat, then slid tiredly into a chair of his own.   I saw Barton smiling.

“Now, as I was saying,” Coulson said quietly and again I had to strain to hear. “I’d thought about asking to borrow some of your equipment to run a few tests . . .”

Jane looked about to speak but he lifted one hand and she fell silent. Just so had I seen Father raise a hand and silence an entire throng in Asgard’s Great Hall.

“We wanted to run some preliminary tests on an artifact Howard Stark found when he was looking for Captain America,” he continued.

“I don’t understand,” Jane said with a puzzled frown. “What kind of artifact? I’m an astrophysicist, remember? I study space anomalies, string theory, quantum physics, meteors and black holes. I don’t usually get into ancient history.   Shouldn’t Tony Stark be doing that? It was his dad who found it after all.” She seemed to run out of breath then and leaned back in her chair.

“Stark’s not stable,” Sitwell said quickly. “He’s too erratic and can’t be trusted.”

Coulson shook his head. “Actually, we’d like Dr. Selvig’s help with the Cube,” he said quietly. “We have another project that I think might be right up your alley.”

I saw Jane straighten and even the wizard seemed to become more interested.   I, too, felt a strange excitement stir in my breast. What was this ‘Cube’ these men were so careful with that they would not even trust the son of the man who had discovered it?

“Really?” Jane asked, brow wrinkling slightly – just as my brother’s did when he concentrated upon some spell. “And what might that be? Astrophysicist, remember? And I don’t let people borrow my equipment.”

“What sort of object?” the wizard asked quietly.

“That’s something you’ll have to wait to find out.” The too-smooth man from the black vehicle spoke again and Jane jumped slightly in surprise. “Phil,” the man went on. “Just let’s crate the stuff up and get out. They’re not going to cooperate and our guys will figure this stuff out.”

I heard Darcy muttering under her breath and Jane, too, gave a little growl. “You said you ‘thought’ about asking?”

The leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D. men nodded.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Darcy snapped. “Not going to ‘ask’, just going to take?”

I frowned as the man sighed. Would they dare take the witches’ tools? How would that serve their king? “Sitwell,” he said quietly and shook his head. “Not helping here.”

He turned to Jane and Darcy. “I realized borrowing your equipment would be pretty much useless,” he explained. “We have very bright people working for us and a very bright – although a little . . . “

“Barton,” he said, a question in his voice as he turned to face the archer. “Unorthodox? Eccentric?”

Barton cleared his throat and shook his head. “If you’re talking about Stark, ‘unorthodox’ or ‘eccentric’ isn’t quite the word or words I’d use,” he said with a frown. “The guy’s an egomaniac. He’s irresponsible; he won’t follow orders and he thinks he knows everything about everything. But he is a frigging genius and a brilliant engineer so maybe he’s entitled – a little. And Banner’s in the wind,” the archer added with a glance in Selvig’s direction that seemed almost sly.

At the mention of ‘Banner’, I saw Selvig seem to relax slightly as he breathed a little sigh. “Was this your friend?” I asked quietly and he nodded. “I am glad they cannot find him,” I whispered though if he were ‘in the wind’ as Barton said, perhaps his spirit had flown? The old wizard’s reaction seemed to indicate this was not the case, though, so I bit down on my tongue for both Barton and Coulson were now looking at me oddly.

“Stark’s a ‘consultant’,” Sitwell said easily. “We pay him to ‘consult’, not to take orders, unfortunately, and Director Fury doesn’t want him playing with our toys.”

Jane shifted in her chair. “Can’t you at least give us a hint what you want with us if not to borrow my equipment?”

Coulson sighed.   “I want to borrow your brain, Dr. Foster.” He smiled and I felt my blood run cold.

“You shall not borrow Jane’s brain!” I lunged forward, but Barton placed a foot in my path and I had to stop suddenly lest I stumble. I growled and turned to grab him by the throat only to find a wicked blade nearly at my own.

“Easy there, tiger,” he said as he withdrew the blade. “It’s a figure of speech.” He glanced toward his leader. “You know, for a guy with all those letters after his name, he seems a little out of touch with reality. Drugs, maybe?”

“Donald doesn’t do drugs,” Selvig said quickly. “He’s just been under a lot of pressure lately at the hospital.”  I frowned. The hospital had been weeks past. Why did he think it still troubled me?

“Yeah,” Darcy chirped – a sound Sif would never make. “Every so often he just goes off into his own little fantasy D & D world.” She sighed and glared at me. “It’s really annoying.”

“Not even for the pain?” The archer’s brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“What pain?” I asked, frowning at the women. They had told me nothing of any pain inflicted on this Donald. No wonder he had disappeared so suddenly, leaving just his clothing behind.

“The pain in your leg,” Barton explained while Jane buried her face in her hands.

“I have no pain in my legs,” I growled. “What foolishness is this?”

Now Coulson spoke. “Apparently, no limp, either.”

Limp? What manner of warrior would I be if I were crippled so?

“What about the objects?” Selvig interrupted, and I knew not if he attempted to distract them from further questioning of my identity or to distract me from wondering what had happened to the man whose name I borrowed.

“You’ll see them both, I promise. We just need to know if you’re willing to help,” Coulson answered.

“No ‘borrowing’ Janie’s brain,” Darcy broke in angrily, ‘until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. You guys have a tendency to break your toys.”

“I am not a toy,” Jane protested.

Darcy huffed and shook her head. “To them,” she said with a nod in Coulson’s direction, “that’s all any of us are.”

“I knew we should have had Dr. Selvig and Dr. Foster come with me,” Sitwell said, sighing. “We could have finished up here and been back at the site.”

Darcy glared and I found myself frowning. “Not until we know what kind of ‘experiments’ you need done and on what,” she said firmly. “We’re not taking any chances with Jane’s brain, thank you.”

I felt a rush of some feeling I was unfamiliar with – or had been before I came here. Just so would Tyr have spoken to an underling (or, indeed, anyone at all) who dared to challenge his authority in the training yard.

Never before had such a feeling assailed me. In none of the quests we had undertaken – no matter how long – or the paths we had wandered – no matter how far – had I suffered such emptiness, such hollowness – as though a part of me was missing.

“And I,” Coulson said quietly, “am not asking Director Fury to make arrangements for either of you to see the cube or anything else unless I have some assurance someone will cooperate.”

Selvig stood a little straighter and I could almost see his mind working. “What is this ‘cube’ and why is it so important?”

Again Coulson looked to me with that same small smile upon his face – a smile I was beginning to find somewhat irritating. “According to history,” he said quietly.   “The Tesseract is a relic of enormous power – almost unlimited power, in fact.”

“You said Howard Stark found it, when he was looking for Captain America,” Darcy said.

Coulson nodded. “He did.”

“How?” she asked. “How could he find the Tesseract thing, when he was supposedly looking for Captain America?”

I wondered much the same but did not dare to speak with the son-of-Coule watching so closely.

Barton spoke then. “Hydra’d been using it to make weapons of mass destruction and Rogers stopped them. What happened is guesswork, mostly, but apparently the cube was on the same plane that went down with the Captain and Hydra’s leader, the Red Skull.” He shrugged. “Not certain, but it was close enough to where they found Rogers years later.”

My heart nearly stuttered to a stop. Father had hidden the Tesseract on Midgard ages before either Loki or I was born – hidden it where he was sure it would be safe. How then had it been used to make weapons by a nine-headed serpent with a red skull?

If only there were some way to reach Loki and have him inform Father or – better yet – some way for me to retrieve it myself and return it to Asgard. Would that not cause Father to reconsider my banishment?   I could see it in my mind’s eye – I would return to Asgard as a hero, and the reason for my banishment (indeed the banishment itself) would be forgotten. There would be great feasting and epic songs would be sung in my honor. Women would beg for my favor – even more than they had done in days past. Little children would strive to emulate my victory.

“And this cube you have,” Selvig said slowly, “is that the same Tesseract?”

“It appears to be,” Coulson responded, nodding. “We’d like you to fly down to the base with Hawkeye and meet with Director Fury, while Dr. Foster here runs some tests on the extraterrestrial object that landed out in the desert about ten days ago.” He sighed. “We’ve had some of our best science guys out here but the thing is giving off such strange readings, they’re getting nothing but headaches.”

“I still don’t understand,” Jane said. “What am I supposed to do with this other thing while Erik studies your cube?”

“We think they may be related,” Coulson answered. “The signals we got before the thing landed were eerily similar to the ones given off by the cube.” He shrugged. “Those signals stopped when it landed, but the new ones are like nothing we’ve ever seen.”

“Why don’t you just bring it here?” Selvig asked.

“Would that we could,” Coulson stated bluntly. “But the thing seems to have put down roots.”

“We can’t move it,” Barton said grudgingly. “Can’t even pick it up.”

“How big is the damn thing, anyway?” the wizard asked faintly.

“Not very,” Coulson replied. “It looks to be about so high.” He stretched his hands apart and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Jane frowned. “So? Dig it out.”

Barton coughed. “Wouldn’t do much good,” he said. “It’s like the frigging Sword in the Stone, waiting for the once-and-future king.”

Coulson sighed, a sound of heavy sorrow. “We even had one of your neighbors hitch his truck to the thing, just to see if it would budge.”

“What happened?” Darcy asked, glancing at them both.

“Tore the back right off the truck,” Coulson said sadly. “Blew my budget for the whole month.”

“Mjolnir,” I whispered, and Selvig cast me a glance most strange. “I would see this object,” I said quickly. “And the Tesseract as well, for these things you cannot possibly understand.”

“Oh, really,” Jane said turning about in her chair to glare at me.   “We’re not stupid, Donald.”

“I have the utmost respect for your intelligence, and Selvig’s, Lady Jane,” I said hurriedly. “But the Tesseract is an object of immense power and not to be trifled with.” I took a breath. “And Mjolnir belongs not to these men, though they may think to wield her.”

Barton looked at me, a puzzled frown upon his face. Coulson merely smiled. “A student of mythology, Doctor Blake?” he asked quietly, and I heard Selvig groan. Why did my words seem to cause my companions such pain?  

“RPG,” Darcy said quickly. “There’s this game we started a week or two ago based on Norse myths and, like I said, Donald really gets into it.” She glanced my way and smiled. “Told you you’d get hooked,” she said. “He can’t quit playing even when we’re not online.”

“This is no game,” I protested. “They know not what they tamper with.”

Coulson glanced at Jane, who nodded, and Selvig, who seemed frozen.

“Pity,” Barton said. “I didn’t realize medicine could crack a guy up like that.” He shook his head sadly and I wondered what manner of medicine he spoke of, for I had taken no pills or potions that I knew of. And then I remembered the days and nights during which I had been so ill, and I looked with suspicion upon my companions. Had they drugged me? I did remember having strange dreams during my illness – dreams of Mother (not unnatural in a son who loved his maternal parent as I did) – but I attributed these to fever, not potions. And why had I dreamt of my brother and not of Father, when I loved Father Odin near as much as my mother, the Queen of Asgard?

And then, I remembered the serpent’s sting in that place they called ‘hospitable’, and how after each strike I had floated in silence and darkness even more terrible than that encountered on my journey to Midgard. I remembered, too, how it had been Jane and Darcy and Selvig who had given me succor after my escape from that place, and realized they would never have done me such evil.

Coulson raised a hand to his mouth and spoke a few words, but I was still too confused by the archer’s statement to pay closer attention. He might have been baying at the moon for all his words mattered at that moment.

At last he glanced toward Jane and Selvig. “Yes, Sir. If Dr. Selvig agrees, we can have him on the chopper and at base in less than an hour. I’m hoping Dr. Foster can give us some help with the other object, Sir.”  

“You’re not going without me, Janie” Darcy snapped.

“Dr. Foster? Dr. Selvig? Decision time,” Coulson said calmly.

Selvig gave an uneasy little laugh and I glanced at him in surprise. “What happens if we say no?”

I saw Barton frown.

“Possibly nothing,” Coulson said, shrugging. “Or possibly a great deal happens. There’d be nothing overly dramatic, of course.” He gave a small chuckle. “There’d be no long walk off a short pier like you’re probably imagining. We don’t work that way. But funding could dry up; manuscripts fail to find publishers, and so forth – the usual consequences.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jane said sharply, and Coulson smiled.

“No, we wouldn’t but then we wouldn’t have to. Word would get out that you’d been uncooperative during a government investigation relating to national security, and people would simply stop returning your calls.”

This seemed reasonable to me, and far less onerous than punishments I had seen meted out by those in authority. Indeed, my own banishment was far more severe, and for a matter far more trifling than this. I leaned closer to Selvig. “The Son-of-Coul speaks truly?” I asked and the wizard nodded. “Then would it not behoove us to do as he says? I could guard you whilst you speak to the Fury should you wish it.”

“Ah, that would be a ‘no’,” Barton said softly.   “Afraid this show is by invitation only.”

Darcy frowned and shoved Barton’s feet aside. “Janie?”

Jane seemed unable to speak as she sat, glancing first at Coulson, then Darcy, and then Selvig. Never once did she look to me.

“Dr. Foster?” Coulson urged. “It really is a chance of a lifetime. You’ll get to study an object from deep space, do a complete write-up on it and . . .”

“And never publish a word,” Darcy said sharply, “because it’s all government tippy top secret and you’ll be forced to sign non-disclosure agreements until the cows come home.”

I frowned. What did cattle returning to their byre have to do with agreements between magi and their governors?

Jane stood. “Let me put a few things together so I can take some initial readings,” she said quickly – almost as though she were afraid she might change her mind – and hurried into another room, returning swiftly with an armload of equipment, notebooks and implements with which to write. I knew the feeling she must have all too well. Had I not persuaded my friends to join me on my quest to Jotunheim, I too might have wavered. Far better would it have been had I done so, and so avoided that disaster and my Father’s wrath.

“Ready,” she exclaimed as she followed Coulson to the door. “You two,” she continued, wagging a finger at Darcy and myself, “stay here and be good. In fact, I think I’ll just take these,” she said quietly, lifting a set of keys from Darcy’s satchel and following the others out of the door.

“Anybody’d think you don’t trust us,” the dark-haired young witch called back.

“It’s him I don’t trust,” Jane laughed, pointing at me. Then she turned back to Darcy, bouncing the keys in her hand. “And I don’t trust you not to go along with the crazy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big salute to Crazy_Cat_Lady who must've read this thing a dozen times and without whose input this would be shorter and make a lot less sense.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor has a plan. It just doesn't work very well.

I growled and began to pace as the black machine pulled away from the lab. How dare Jane and Selvig leave us stranded here like ignorant and troublesome children? They had no notion what power they sought to harness.

“How may we now follow?” I fretted, glaring at the young witch. “Does your magic suffice to make your vehicle move? Fifty of your miles are too far to tread in the time we have, even for me, in this mortal frame.” Oh how I wished for a horse, but there were none that I had seen in this miserable village. Were Loki here, he might magic one of their little yapping dogs into a size fit to be ridden. But, alas, my brother had yet to make an appearance.

No matter how often I had dreamt that Loki had come to rescue me, they were yet only dreams. I wondered, sometimes, why I should expect my brother to magically appear and bring me word of Father’s forgiveness, when I was certain he would be happier as our parents’ only son. Had not Sif said he was jealous? Had not Loki himself said he was envious? With me absent, he would have our parents’ love and attention all to himself.

Darcy made a scoffing sound between her lips. “Oh, yeah,” she said quickly as she plucked a number of objects from her bag. “I didn’t live in New York all those months, beat GTA 1 thru 5, and memorize every line of all 6 Fast & Furious movies without learning a few things about starting a car without my keys.” She laughed lightly and hurried out the door. “Grab a coat-hanger, will you? Janie probably locked the doors, too.”

She rubbed her hands together and I wondered if she might be cold. I did not understand her reasoning. What good would a wire hanger do if Jane had locked the vehicle’s doors? Nonetheless, I did as I was bid. “This is going to be a blast,” she said, glancing back at me and the wire hanger I carried.

At her words, I felt a shudder run through my frame. I hoped, if indeed there was a blast, it would not be too great. When Loki and I were young and small enough we could both sit beside Father on his throne, he often showed us events both past and present. I knew that from Hlidskjalf he could look out over all the realms, but even now that I was grown, I still did not understand how he could show us scenes of things past long before we were born.

On one of these occasions, I had heard such a sound and seen the explosion that caused it. Loki and I had both watched in horror as tall towers and fine houses slipped into the sea. “That,” Father had said, “is what mortals earn for themselves when they meddle with powers they cannot understand.”

“Could you not teach them?” my little brother had asked, staring wide-eyed at the place where just a short time past the great island kingdom of Atlantis had stood. Some few had escaped in their boats and traveled far across the seas to the east and the west bringing with them the remnants of their science and art.  

Father had shaken his head and explained that mortals were too foolish and short-lived to comprehend such concepts. They were, as he put it, barely better than cattle, which made Loki ask why, if they were so stupid, Father had bothered to save them from the Frost Giants.

Father had had no answer for that. Father had often had no answer for a great many of Loki’s questions.

“Is this the magic of the heated wires?” I asked Darcy, once my mind returned to the problem at hand. I had seen such on her magic portal but saw no wires here – heated or otherwise. I glanced about, half-fearing their authorities would appear to bind us with chains and cast us into their deepest dungeons. I had seen enough to know what she did was not strictly within the law but how long would it be before we were discovered?

She nodded. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose,” she muttered, jerking the vehicle’s door open and crawling inside. “Although, technically, what I’m doing isn’t illegal since it’s my Jeep.”

I breathed a sigh of relief at that. “Will not the SHIELD-men see us as we follow?” I asked as she twisted and pulled at things where I could not see.

She shook her head as the machine coughed to life. “Not if we run without lights,” she said as she hopped into the controller’s seat and pressed a lever on the floor. “Hurry and get in,” she ordered. “I don’t want to lose ‘em.”

I did as she asked and, as the machine moved, the sky opened, spilling rain and lightning down upon us. I spread my arms and laughed aloud for these were my elements as fire was Loki’s. Perhaps, Father was aiding my quest. Had Heimdal told him I meant to return the Tesseract to Asgard? But how would he know that?

For some time we followed the S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle, and many times I feared we had lost their track in the darkness. But always Darcy found them again. Still, they spied us not and I found myself amazed at her cleverness. Had she Loki’s power to hide from their sight as he did from Heimdal’s and that of our Father?

At last we came to the crest of a hill and spied a small, bright-lit village in the valley below.   A perimeter of gleaming silver mesh topped by sharpened wires greeted our sight and Darcy huffed in annoyance.

“How do we get in?” she asked, and I shrugged, not entirely certain in my own mind. “Think of something,” she said, stamping her foot and striking her palm against my chest. “You’re the one claiming to be this mighty warrior-prince and all. Surely you’ve got some ideas.”

I had ideas but felt no need to share them with her. Had I Mjolnir to hand, it would be easier to enter but I had confidence in my own power to destroy their pitiful little wall.

Stepping out of her vehicle into the pouring rain, I started down the slope uncertain how to gain entry, for stealth was not in my nature as it was Loki’s. My preference was always for a more forthright attack. Lightning flashed overhead and thunder rumbled somewhere near. Tears filled my eyes and I thanked the Norns they were hidden by the downpour.  Whether they were tears of sorrow for the time spent from Asgard, or joy that my return could be so near I knew not, nor did I care. Time enough to muse on that when I held Mjolnir in my hand once more and proved to these mortals I was neither mad nor a fraud.

Continuing down the muddy track, almost at a run, I was caught up short by a small fist in my shirt.

“Not without me, dude,” Darcy hissed through teeth that chattered with the cold. “Do you even have a plan?”

Plan? I nearly roared in frustration. What need had I of a plan? I was Thor, son of Odin and Prince of Asgard.   Once I had Mjolnir in my hand and my power restored, I would prove myself worthy to Father. Then, these mortals would admit they were wrong to doubt and mock me. Then, too, they would bend the knee and acknowledge me – always assuming they did not first destroy themselves with the Tesseract.

“Didn’t think so,” the witch muttered, and I frowned as we started down the hill once more.  

Why would she not remain with her vehicle? How I was to retrieve Mjolnir, follow Selvig to the Tesseract, rescue Jane, and defend Darcy as well, I did not know. “Women,” I muttered to myself, cursing their entire gender with one exception – Mother. She, at least, knew her place and stayed in it.

“I’m coming with, big guy,” Darcy snapped.  “Don’t cop attitude with me. You’ve got no idea what’s down there, no plan for getting in, and, from everything I’ve seen so far, you need somebody close to keep you from doing anything stupid.”

I stopped short and jerked free of her grasp. “No one,” I swore through gritted teeth, “speaks to me in that manner.”

“So just call me ‘nobody’,” she said, grinning.   “But, seriously, maybe if somebody ever had, you wouldn’t be such a dick.”

I felt my brow crease as I struggled to make sense of her words. I shook my head and surrendered the attempt to understand her.  

We started downhill once more, but the track had grown steeper and slicker whilst we argued and I, in my hurry, found myself off-balance and sliding toward the SHIELD-wall at great speed. Darcy’s fist clutched at my sleeve as we slipped and tumbled down that hillside. Her legs slid around my waist and her feet dug into the mud beside us. Amazingly, we stopped, bruised and battered and covered in mud, but a short distance before crashing into the barrier about the SHIELD’s Fortress.

Darcy laughed down at me in triumph as I nodded my thanks, which she answered with an equally brief nod of acknowledgement. Perhaps, I thought, if we simply did not speak, we might avoid further conflict. It was a lesson I would need to remember when I returned to Asgard, for it seemed my words, far more than my actions, brought conflict with Loki.

We caught our breath as Darcy rolled to one side, and I stood while she looked up at me expectantly. I looked back. “How are we getting in?” she asked, blinking as the rain washed the mud from her face.

“We are not,” I answered, looking about to see if we had been discovered. “I will go alone and you will stay here.” The barrier seemed to be nothing more than thin links of chain cunningly woven into a kind of wall, simple enough for me to bend or break.

Darcy made that scoffing noise again. “How are you getting in, then? What’s your plan?”

Chuckling, I strode toward the gate, placed my hands upon it and pulled. The gate shook and creaked but refused to open and I almost roared in frustration. Thanking the Norns for the wind and the thunder which covered the noise I made, I pulled again, exerting near all my strength, and again I achieved nothing but the rattling of chain and the blooding of my palms.

Darcy grinned as she stood, digging into her satchel and holding out a strange weapon. “Wire cutters,” she said as I frowned in confusion. “For cutting wires or chain-link,” she continued, striding toward the gate.

“I know what they are for,” I lied, reaching for the ‘cutters’ and taking them from her hand.

“Do you?” Darcy asked sweetly, as I fumbled with the awkward things. “Watch and learn, big guy,” she said, extending her hand for the cutters, with a smirk so like Loki’s I yearned to wipe it from her face, but I refrained and handed the weapon back. Soon enough she had snipped enough of their wires to create a low pathway just big enough for me to enter if I crawled on my belly.

I would have preferred to stride through boldly but there seemed little time for the snipping of more wire. Even in this downpour, I could hear and see one of their machines like a giant bird readying for flight.

Once inside the fence, I stood and motioned for Darcy to stay where she was beyond the barrier. I had no wish (nor any need) for her to be following after me, interfering with my plans to retrieve Mjolnir, rescue Jane and Selvig and return the Tesseract to Father, thus putting an end to my disgrace.

Again she made that same scoffing sound and muttered words that sounded like a curse, pushed her satchel through the opening she had made and followed swiftly and silently after it. She stood, attempting to wipe the mud from her torn clothing and fixed me with an icy glare. “Don’t even think you’re leaving me behind,” she grumbled. “My friends are in there and I’m not letting them do something crazy stupid without me.”

I sighed. Son of Odin I might be but I knew when the argument was lost.

I felt in my bones that Mjolnir lay beyond the portal of the small white temple I could spy just ahead of where we stood. What else could it be but a temple so white and shining with light?

There did not appear to be a great many guards about for a place of such import but I – for once – would not complain of too little opposition. There was too much to be done and too little time to do it in, if what I saw occurring around us was any indication. Had not Coulson said they would fly Selvig to the place where the Fury waited with the Tesseract? Was the great bird I had seen from beyond the barrier wall not the means by which they would do this?

For a long moment I stood, undecided. I could hear voices and saw Selvig near another vehicle, this one with strange wings that whipped about above its head. Sore tempted was I to find a way inside the thing and go to where the Tesseract was hidden. Surely, if I succeeded at that, Father would bring me home. But I could hear Mjolnir calling to me, her voice ringing like bells, and knew I would not rest until I held her again. The Tesseract would have to wait.

There were many large containers lying about which served well, for the most part, to hide us from the sight of those few guards we did see. Darcy proved most adept at slipping around corners, spying the unprotected places and dashing forward to hide behind yet another container. Watching her, I felt like the oaf Loki had sometimes called me.

The first guard I met was subdued with barely a struggle and I felt my confidence grow. The second and third likewise fell, and as I approached the temple with a swagger, I thought even those few guardians I had encountered had been far too easily overcome – even by one so mighty as I. Then again, I thought, I am the Mighty Thor and soon all would know my true name and tremble.

And then I looked behind me – to be certain Darcy was unharmed – only to see her binding the arms of one of the fallen with the brightly-colored material she said was for the taping of ducks. I had thought this nonsense for why would one wish to tape a duck? Was it to prevent the living bird from taking flight?   It seemed to be a great deal of trouble just to bind the creature for roasting.

I frowned, for the man she was binding was not an opponent I recognized and I wondered how he had come to fall. Then I noticed Darcy’s taser-box jutting from her pocket.

The witch glanced up and yipped an exultant little laugh. “Just helping out a little,” she said. “Not that I thought for even a minute you couldn’t handle it, but you looked kind of busy.”

She shrugged and patted the downed guard on the head. “He could’ve hit you with that,” she explained pointing toward the odd-shaped weapon beside him. Strange it was, indeed, with all its little levers and dials and buttons.   “Not sure what it does,” she continued, “but it looks like it’d hurt like a wicked bitch.” Such a bright red color seemed unusual for a weapon but it might very easily have cracked an enemy’s skull.

I turned away, muttering curses under my breath, and aimed my steps once more toward the temple.

“Hey, I said I knew you could handle it,” she exclaimed as she charged after me and grabbed my sleeve. “What’re you so steamed for?”

I jerked free of her grasp, growling under my breath, and resumed walking, concentrating my attention on the building just ahead.

“Dude,” she called, pointing toward where Selvig stood with Barton and two others. I half-turned to chide her. “Where are you going? I thought we broke in here to help Jane and Erik.” Her voice rose in anger and I grabbed her shoulder and clapped one hand over her mouth.

“I am going,” I hissed softly, still maintaining my hold on her (and hoping she did not decide to use her taser on me as she had the guard), “to fetch Mjolnir.”

“Mew-mew?” she mumbled, trying in vain to push my hand away.

“Mjolnir,” I repeated. “It is the name of the hammer they wish Jane to study.” I cast a glance over my shoulder at the temple. “No one has wielded her but the All-Father or myself since the day she was given me.”

Her eyes grew huge and I felt her teeth sink into the flesh of my thumb. I pressed my lips together to stifle an exclamation and drew my hand back, cradling it against my chest. It would have to be cleansed, I was certain, as I stared in shock at the tiny droplets where her teeth had pierced the skin. Did all the women of this realm have fangs like the demon-cats of Helheim or was it a custom of the witches here to file their teeth to points?

“You’re going to steal a hammer? Instead of helping our friends?” One small fist struck me in the chest. “What is wrong with you? I didn’t bust us in here so you could do a smash-and-grab and just run,” she protested, as she pummeled me with both fists. “We’ve got to help them! I don’t like that Sitwell guy, and I’m not sure I like Coulson either, since he tried to leave us behind. Jane should’ve told him she can’t function without us – well, without me, anyway.” Her lip trembled and for one dreadful moment I thought she might weep.

I grasped her hands and held her away from me. “I steal nothing,” I said soothingly. How I wished for Loki and his silver-tongue. He could make her understand. “Mjolnir is mine and has been since I was old enough and strong enough to wield her.” I sighed and struggled for calm. “Mjolnir is a weapon of great power, and once I hold her in my hand again, we will rescue Jane and Selvig. This I swear.”

“Fine,” she said, giving me a sharp kick to my shin that made me close my eyes and try very hard not to strangle her. “Do it your way. I’ll just go stand over there,” she continued, pointing toward the great bird beside which Selvig and Barton stood, “and give Erik some moral support.”

I breathed a sigh of relief that I was no longer to be burdened with the need to protect her and could now concentrate all my skill and power on retrieving Mjolnir. Once the hammer was within my grasp, it would matter little how far the men of S.H.I.E.L.D. might take Selvig for I would follow. No matter where the Tesseract might be hidden, I would find it.

It was only as I drew nearer the temple that I began to suspect my quest might not be as simple an undertaking as I thought. Guards, better armed and armored than those at the gate, seemed to spring from the very air. Yet I fought on, and when most of my enemies lay defeated on the ground, I laughed aloud.

“At least make it a challenge for me!” I cried as I made my way into the temple maze. There I found myself confronted by a giant of ebon-hue. Tall was he like unto the trees of the forest and broad with arms and legs like pillars. “You’re big,” I said, looking him up and down to judge how I might defeat him.

He grinned. “But you’ve fought bigger, yes?”

For one fatal moment I stared, taken aback as my own words from the encounter in the tavern were tossed back at me. This was not that giant. How then did he know the very words I had spoken then?

There was no time to ponder for he rushed at me as one stag rushes another and I was lifted off my feet and tossed bodily through a maze-wall. The giant followed swiftly after and I had to scramble to avoid a mighty blow. I struck next, setting him back a pace or two, but he recovered and charged again bearing me to the ground under his great weight.

Back and forth we wrestled, staggering to our feet, covered in mud and filth, only to be felled once again. At last, the giant lay still and I stumbled to my feet and re-entered the temple. Many of the maze-walls had been destroyed in the battle and I soon found myself in the chamber where Mjolnir lay.

Gratefully, reverently, I placed my hand about her shaft and pulled, expecting her to rise as always before but she stuck fast to the rock she was buried in. I wrapped both hands about her and heaved with near all my strength and still she resisted me. Again I pulled, screaming in rage and frustration. How could Father have done this thing to me? How could he have sent her so close, knowing I’d not be able to lift her? He would not win! I would never surrender. And so I pulled and heaved until my strength gave way and I dropped to my knees, weeping.

Men came and made to drag me away, but I fought them off. I would not leave her without they slew me. Then came a sudden pain in my head and darkness swallowed me up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Crazy_Cat_Lady who makes everything better


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor finds himself in difficulty and has an unexpected visitor

I woke to find myself bound to a wooden chair, and even had I not been bound so, I would have sat where they told me to sit and made no protest, too stunned and ashamed to do aught else. My head felt much as it had when Jane struck me with her vehicle – as though I’d had a spike driven through my skull – and my vision doubled and redoubled and refused to focus. One wrong move and I was certain the contents of my stomach would reveal themselves for all to see.

The room was stark and white and bare save for the chair upon which I sat, and I could not but think of that other prison room where I had first woken after being struck by Darcy’s lightning box. Where was the witch-child, I wondered. What had they done with her? And then my own troubles came pouring back upon me.

Coulson stood before me, seeming relaxed and almost friendly. I was not fooled. These people were not my friends.

“You may have noticed,” he said, with that same half-smile he had employed with such ease in Jane’s laboratory, “that the guys seem a little grumpy.” He sighed. “There’s a really good reason for that,” he continued when I seemed unable to speak. “See, they found our barista, a nice kid who never hurt anybody, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey out in the yard and this site’s only espresso machine tossed aside like so much junk, beans spilled everywhere and pretty much ruined.” He sighed. “Kid’s lucky he didn’t suffocate or drown out there in the mud and the rain. Probably wishes he’d stayed at Starbuck’s now.”

I frowned. What manner of warrior was this ‘barista’ who had never hurt anyone? And what type of weapon was an ‘espresso machine’?

Coulson shook his head. “Now, I have to ask, what do you people have against a good cup of coffee?”

I groaned. I had nothing against coffee. Indeed, when I found my way home, I intended to bring a goodly quantity of the nectar back with me. Perhaps it would ease the pain of having lost the Tesseract – particularly if combined with a large enough portion of the whiskey some of the tavern’s patrons seemed so fond of.

“Uncomfortable?” Coulson asked, eyeing me steadily. “Sorry about the ties, but we didn’t want you falling over and hurting yourself. Lawsuits are so time-consuming and expensive, don’t you think? Messy, too, when the media gets involved, and they generally do.”

I might have wept had I the energy left for it. But alas, I had barely strength enough to twitch the muscle I needed to frown. Had I Mjolnir to hand and could I but reach the sly serpent standing before me, then would I rend him limb from limb. What evil did these creatures plan with the Tesseract? And to make Selvig a party to it only increased my fury.

“You had some very impressive moves out there, Dr. Blake,” he said in his so quiet manner. “I’d say very surprising moves for a medical man.”  He continued to watch as though he expected me to say something, but I had no idea what. “You made my men, some of the most highly trained professionals in the world, look like minimum wage mall cops. That’s hurtful.”

I listened but little to his words, for they meant nothing to me. How could I have been so wrong? How could Father have been so cruel to set Mjolnir so near to me, knowing I could not lift her? She – and the Tesseract now – might as well be leagues away, rather than a few paces. How would I ever find my way home?

“In my experience,” Coulson went on, “it takes someone with similar training to do what you did to them. Why don’t you tell me where you received your training? Pakistan? Chechnya? Afghanistan?”

He paused for a time but I had no answer – none that would be believed at any rate. I was no longer entirely certain I believed it myself. Was I not Odin’s son? Was I not the wielder of Mjolnir, bringer of storms? If these things were true, and not figments of my imagination, from whence would rescue come, if not from my own strength and will?

“No, you strike me more as the soldier-of-fortune type. Where was it – South Africa? There are quite a number of organizations that would pay a great deal for a mercenary with your skills. Who are you?”

I could only stare back at him.

“One way or another,” Coulson said with seeming calm, but I heard the threat beneath his words. “We’ll find out what we need to know. We’re very good at that.”

Visions of torture raced through my head. What could they do to me, though, that would be worse than what Odin, my own Father, had already done?

There was a strange tinkling sound which made him look at something in his hand. He shook his head and looked up at me. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said as he left the room.

I did weep then. Where could I go, bound as I was to this chair and this place?

“Loki?” I said as I looked up to see my brother standing there, fingers wrapped tight about a walking stick and clothed all in black garments like those these Midgardians wore. Had I not been bound to the chair, I might have leapt up and thrown myself at him in sheer relief.

And then I noticed his expression and realized he might not welcome any such display.   Gone was his usual smirk. Gone, too, the ease with which he’d tease and taunt. He looked tired and unhappy.

“What are you doing here?” The words were out of my mouth before I thought how they might sound.

“Oh, how pleasant to see you, too,” Loki said, mocking. “Perhaps I might ask you the same? What are you doing here while Mjolnir sits not a hundred paces away? What are you waiting for – an invitation?” He shook his head. “Not what I came to say, Thor. Forgive me, please. I’ve grown snappish, I fear, but I had to see you.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my breath grew short. What could be so wrong that Loki would come in secret to Midgard, bypassing Heimdall and the Bifrost to apologize to me? For surely he had come without any such aid or I would have seen the signs, for they were unmistakable. “Has something happened?” I asked, almost certain the war had started without me. “Is it Jotunheim? Let me explain to Father.”

Loki heaved a sigh. “Father is,” he began and I held my breath. “Father is fallen into Odin-sleep,” he went on after a moment, almost as though he’d been about to say something else. “Mother refuses to leave his side.” He shook his head. Always before, Mother had acted as regent. Why not now? “She says he may never wake; he waited too long and they were not prepared.”

That made no sense. How could they have been unprepared if they’d waited too long? For what reason could Father have waited too long to take his rest?

My breath caught in my throat. “How can that be?” I stammered. “I don’t understand.”

“You ask ‘How’?” Loki repeated. “Well, let’s see. There was the threat of a new war with Jotunheim for one; your banishment for another.” He frowned. “Then, too, Mother argued with him, and as if that wasn’t enough, I fought with him, too.”

“You fought with Father?” I could hardly believe my ears. Loki had never argued with Father in his life – not even when the old man blamed him for the Council allowing that builder to keep his horse to aid in repairing the walls. “If Father sleeps and Mother will not leave him, who rules in Asgard now?” I had an unhappy feeling I already knew the answer.

He shrugged. “I did, and between the two of us, I fear it proved too much for him to bear.” He twisted his hands around the cane he carried. “As for your second question, who do you think?” He grinned, sharp and bitter then. “The burden of the throne has fallen to me, and I don’t want it.”

My mind boggled. Not want it when all our lives we’d been told we were born to be kings? I must have misheard, or else he misspoke. “You’re joking,” I said.

“Do I look to be in a joking mood?” he hissed. “This is your dream, Thor, not mine.”

I frowned. “If not the kingship, brother, then what is your dream?” I asked. His words were making me more confused than even the mortal’s talk of places I’d never heard of.

“Freedom,” Loki responded, staring into the distance. “Freedom to go where and when I wish, openly. I wish for freedom to be what I am without fear of reprisal, rejection or reproach, freedom from all the secrets and lies that have bound us both our whole lives.”

“But we are free, Loki,” I protested. “We are Princes of Asgard, Sons of Odin, what could be freer than that?”

Loki glanced about. “Free?” he said with a snort, sounding far too much like one of the horses in Father’s stables – far too much indeed like my own Horse that I’d ridden into Jotunheim. My mind raced back and I began to wonder, but Loki was speaking again.

“Do you call this ‘free’?” He waved one hand about the little room. “No one in Asgard is ‘free’, Thor,” he went on. “We are bound to the Realm Eternal – never-changing – and freedom is change – or at least it allows of the possibility to do so. Without change, brother, we stagnate and die.”

Now that was just odd. Admittedly, Father tossing me out of Asgard on my ass and into this miserable little realm was not my idea of ‘freedom’ but I certainly wasn’t ‘dying’. And why should Loki complain? He was king now – for a time at least - and could do what he wanted.

He seemed almost to read my mind. “This is not the life I wanted, Thor. It’s what you wanted, so I suggest you get out of that chair, pick up your damned hammer and come home where you’re needed.”

“How could I?” I asked, with a nod toward my bonds. “Without you should release me, perhaps?”

“Are you mad?” Loki snarled. “And have these mortals know you’ve had a visitor?”

“Well, then, since you’ll not help free me, I can’t,” I muttered as he at last ran out of rant and breath.

Loki reared back as though I’d struck him. “What do you mean ‘can’t’?” he nearly shrieked. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

I might not have once, but I was beginning to learn what it meant. Growling, I stated the bald truth of the matter. “I mean, I cannot. I tried to pick her up and I could not.”

“Impossible,” brother said, frowning even deeper than before. “Another word I realize you have trouble with, but one that must be used in this instance. Mjolnir is yours, and the last words Father uttered before he tossed her through the same portal he tossed you into were ‘Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.’ So, there you have it. Prove yourself worthy, fetch Mjolnir and get yourself back to Asgard, because I’m damned tired of keeping Hlidskjalf warm for you and Father. That has got to be the most uncomfortable seat in the whole palace.”

Well, of course he’d think so. There wasn’t enough meat on his bones to cushion one of the chairs in the dining hall, let alone Father’s great golden monstrosity.

“And how do you propose I ‘prove myself worthy’?” I groused. “There are no dragons here to slay, no glorious battles to fight in this wretched realm. There is no kingdom to win.” Of a certain, I had fought one or two small battles, but look where they had gotten me. I was a prisoner being asked questions to which I had no answers.

Loki shrugged. “How should I know?” he asked, scowling. “It was Father’s decree that whoever held Mjolnir should be ‘worthy’. What do you think he meant?” His head jerked up at a noise from outside the cell. “Think on it, Thor,” he whispered. “And I shall do likewise. Together we shall find a way to prove you worthy of Mjolnir, regain Father’s regard and win the kingship.” He reached out a hand and clasped my shoulder. “Farewell, for now,” he said solemnly.

“Farewell,” I said, swallowing back tears.

“Farewell?” my interrogator asked as he entered the room and untied my bonds. “I just got back.”

Oh! What would I give now to have the gift of Loki’s silver-tongue? What would I give to have him here beside me with his tricks and illusions?   Oh how greatly did I now regret my words to him when I accused him of ‘just’ doing tricks. Why had I not acknowledged then that oft times one can ‘battle’ as well with words and tricks as one might with sword or with mace or with axe.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” the mortal suggested, and I groaned aloud. Start over? Pretend nothing had happened? Was he mad? I put my head in my hands and gripped my hair. Were it not my crowning glory, I would pull it out by the roots.

“Sir,” the Sitwell creature opened the door to the room and stuck his head in but did not enter. “Dr. Selvig and Barton just took-off. They should reach Alamagordo in a couple of hours.”

Coulson nodded. “What about the young lady who came here with Dr. Blake?”

Sitwell’s smile chilled me. “We have her comfortably in custody, sir. She’s not going anywhere. She’s quite a resourceful young lady, sir – had quite an arsenal in that bag of hers.”

Coulson’s genial smile slipped. “Let her go,” he said. “I believe it was Dr. Blake who was the instigator of this little break-in, so we’ll let her off with a warning and keep the good doctor here for further questioning.” He seemed to ponder for a moment. “And let Dr. Foster know we’ve no further need for her services, but we are confiscating her equipment and notes temporarily.” I knew from his gaze upon me that this was my doing and that Jane would no doubt see it so as well. I groaned aloud. Jane would kill me.

Sitwell nodded and retreated, closing the door behind him. How I wished Loki had stayed but a few moments more. I was sure he could have managed to extricate me from this place, either by force or, more likely, by trickery.

Coulson had hardly begun asking his questions once more when Jane stormed through the door, Darcy following close behind. “What were you thinking?” she exclaimed loudly – for her. “Are you totally out of your mind?”

I blinked as she continued to berate me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Any concern at all for the position this puts me and Darcy in? Not to mention Erik. Oh, God, I hope you people don’t think he was involved in this,” she said turning to Coulson. A tear slipped down her cheek as she paced and I saw Darcy give her a small ‘thumbs-up’ sign behind the man’s back.

Coulson stood still and silent all the while.

“I merely thought,” I began, but Jane cut me off.

“You didn’t think,” Jane snapped. “You never think. You charge in and out and break things and disrupt people’s lives and you just don’t care.” She hiccupped and dissolved into tears. Coulson sighed and put one arm around her shoulders.

“There, there,” he said, awkwardly. “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t,” Jane sobbed, clutching his neatly pressed suit. “That’s my whole life’s work you’ve ‘confiscated’. And now I’ll never get to study that hammer and all my research will sit forever in a _vault_ somewhere and nobody will ever realize or remember Jane Foster had a brain and wasn’t just a pretty face.” She sniffled and reached for the cloth Coulson held out to her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re very kind.” She sniffled again and made to return the cloth.

“Keep it,” Coulson mumbled. “Your material and equipment will be returned once we verify nothing remains in it or on it about this base. I’m sorry, Dr. Foster, but you associate with some very . . .” He glanced at me as he spoke, “some very ‘disturbing’ people. Some of these people probably shouldn’t be running around loose.”

Darcy and Jane both nodded. “We thought he was getting better,” Darcy spoke up for the first time. “I thought the therapy was helping.”

“What therapy?” Coulson asked with a slight frown.

Darcy sighed. “The gaming,” she said with a tiny grimace. “It’s supposed to get his fantasies out in the open where we can help him deal with them. I really thought it was helping, Jane.”

Jane reached out a hand. “I know, Darcy,” she said. “We all thought it was helping. The implants in his leg had him walking almost normally and he actually had started making sense sometimes.” She shook her head sadly.

“And then,” Darcy picked up the narrative as I sat there too stunned to say another word. “You came in with your talk of Tesseracts and objects falling from the sky and he just snapped.” She came and laid her face against my cheek. “Poor Donald,” she said softly, as she put a hand to her eyes. “Poor, poor Donald,” she went on and I caught a whiff of some potent spice that made my eyes water and my nose itch.

She turned and glanced up at Coulson, blinking back tears of her own. “Can we take him home, Agent Coulson,” she asked, laying one small hand upon my shoulder. “Please? If we promise to get him help?”

Coulson cleared his throat. “I’d considered keeping him here for a few days,” he half-apologized.   “We have therapists on site,” he went on. “And if, as you say, we’re at least partly to blame for the break, well. I’d be remiss if we didn’t at least try to get him the counseling he needs.”

“He’d do better at home,” Darcy protested, but Coulson only smiled.

“Tell you what,” he said, turning upon me a look like that of a lazy dire-cat with a small rodent between its jaws. The look made my skin crawl. “We’ll keep him here for a day or two, let our doctors have a look at him, maybe study those implants a bit to see how they work, if he doesn’t object.” He glanced at me and I could only shake my head. “Good,” he rapped out, turning toward the door. “That’s settled then.”

Jane and Darcy looked stunned. “But,” Jane began.

“He’ll be all alone in a strange place, among strangers,” Darcy argued. Small though she was, Darcy had the protective instincts of a mother wolf who’d adopted me as a cub. “He’s not really good with strangers or hadn’t you noticed?”

“Oh, I noticed,” Coulson said, turning back toward me. “But I’m sure we can handle him. Can’t we Dr. Blake?”

I remained silent for I had nothing to say. My fate seemed to be sealed.

“Phil,” Sitwell appeared again. “There’s a guy out here claiming to be a ‘barrister’ and this one’s brother.”

My mind boggled. Had not Loki said ‘farewell’ but a short time past? What was he doing back here? “Was not a ‘barrister’ the same sort of warrior as the one Darcy had stricken with her taser?

Coulson rubbed at his forehead as though it pained him. “Send him in.” He turned back to Jane and Darcy for a moment and then spoke to his underling. “Oh, and Sitwell while he’s here, I’d like you to stay around.”

I could see the hairless one’s chest puff out like a Midgardian adder primed to strike. “Sir?” he asked, as though surprised his master would honor him so.

Coulson smiled. “I might need your advice on how to handle our ‘guest’, if you don’t mind.”

Sitwell smiled in return. “I’d be happy to, sir,” he said, giving me a look that made my blood run cold. I hung my head, my chin dropping down on my chest. Let them think me defeated. When Loki arrived, I would be freed, and then we would find Selvig, retrieve the Tesseract and return it to Asgard.

“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt but I’m here to see that . . . my brother’s rights remain inviolate.” That was not Loki’s voice and my head shot up to see Fandral grinning at me, the Sitwell creature standing nearby.

Fandral smiled charmingly at Jane, who flushed, and I ground my teeth in frustration. Darcy seemed half-stunned as well, and I clenched my fists. I would be still and silent until this ruse (which must have been dreamt up by my true brother, for it had all the hallmarks of one of Loki’s complicated tricks) freed me, and then I might just kill my best friend.

“I have papers,” Fandral went on, fumbling in his unfamiliar clothing, “ordering his release into my custody.”

Coulson shook his head. “No can do,” he said stiffly and I saw Sitwell smirk condescendingly.

“I beg your pardon?” My friend asked, taken aback. “What do you mean ‘no can do’? Are you not in command of this provincial little fortress?”

“Provincial little fortress?” Sitwell sputtered. “Sir, surely you’re not going to stand for that?”

Coulson frowned. “Your brother broke into a Top Secret S.H.I.E.L.D. facility and injured a number of highly trained agents.”

I shifted uneasily in my seat. My head still throbbed and I felt wet and chilled and wished almost desperately for the coffee Coulson had mentioned earlier.

Fandral choked on a laugh. “You call this a secret facility? Oh my, I hardly think so. If this were all that ‘secret’, how did I come to find it?” He glanced at me, blue eyes alight with humor. “And really, sir, my poor brother hardly looks like the victor in a contest of physical prowess; as I feel certain it was not a battle of wits, in which case he would have been unarmed.” He laughed again.

“We’re keeping him here,” Coulson insisted and I groaned.

Fandral frowned. “Surely, some sort of compromise can be reached,” he began but Sitwell shook his head.

“You heard Agent Coulson,” he said with a simpering little chuckle of his own. “Your brother stays here for observation and possible examination.”

“He’s a danger to himself,” Coulson said mildly, “and to others. I’m sorry but we can’t possibly turn him loose on an unsuspecting town, now can we?”

“And I cannot possibly leave him to your tender mercies, now can I?” Fandral snapped, his normally mild temper fraying about the edges.

“We seem to have reached something of a sticking point,” Coulson complained.

My friend took a deep breath. “Perhaps a compromise could be reached,” he suggested. “His . . . our father, has given me a certain amount of leeway in negotiating my brother’s release.” He glanced pleadingly at me and I sighed, wondering how much ‘leeway’ Loki had given him.

“What sort of ‘compromise’?” Coulson asked. “Just asking, so don’t get your hopes up, but Director Fury has given me a certain amount of ‘wiggle room’ in maintaining the security of this site.”

Fandral looked pleased. “Then allow me to suggest you release him into the custody of these very lovely young ladies with the stipulation that he be returned every third day to a neutral party for observation – mental only, for there’s to be no experimentation upon the gentleman.” Fandral stumbled to a halt at the look of outrage on Coulson’s face.

“We don’t ‘experiment’ on people,” he ground out, and Fandral blanched. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is not in the habit of torturing prisoners and I’ll be damned before I let you, or anyone else, compare me or any of my people to the sort of monsters who would. Let me see those papers.”

“I apologize,” Fandral said, sweeping a bow in Coulson’s direction and holding out a sheaf of what appeared to me to be fine parchment covered with elegant calligraphy. “I misspoke, obviously, but you had – for I heard you – mentioned studying the implants in his leg and I, mistakenly I see now, assumed that required some sort of experimentation.”

Jane and Darcy stood by, watching in rapt fascination and gripping each other’s hands.

Never had I heard my friend use so many words at one time, save in the pursuit of some fair (and hopefully unattached) female.   My head spun. Had Loki prepared this convoluted little speech in the very brief time he’d been absent? Great Norns! My brother’s mind must be one of the wonders of Asgard.   How had I never seen it until now?

Father should be keeping him in the Weapons Vault with all the other objects of power down there – things like the Casket that had started all this trouble, or Surtur’s Sword or that Gauntlet that would, should the Stones that powered it ever be found, confer upon the wearer the powers of an even greater god than we Aesir.

“Every third day,” Coulson mused, as he studied the writing, and Fandral nodded. Coulson eyed my friend with suspicion. “These seem to be in order, but how’d you get them drawn up so quickly?”

My friend shrugged and waved this off. “The family has connections. And we keep multiple copies. All we need do is ‘fill-in-the-blanks’ as it were.”

Coulson raised one brow in surprise. “This happens often?” he inquired in his by-now too familiar placid tone and my friend nodded.

“Between my brothers and I, something like this happens more frequently than I like to admit,” Fandral said.

Well, that was true enough. Fandral was often in difficulty with the brothers or fathers of unattached young females or the betrothed of those who were not quite so unattached as he’d thought. His brothers likewise were often caught in situations that, while not so dangerous, were certainly embarrassing.

“I can believe it,” Coulson said, glancing back down at the papers he held. “Well, I believe this will be acceptable.” He turned that lazy half-smile upon Jane and Darcy. “Take him home, get some rest and have him see a doctor.”

“Sir!” Sitwell all but vibrated with indignation. “You’re not really buying this bullshit, are you?”

Coulson continued to eye my friend. “We have no reason to doubt his word. Do we Mr. Blake?”

Fandral shook his head. “Of course you’ve no reason to doubt me,” he said, smiling, wickedly. “But then, you’ve really no reason to trust me either, do you?”

I cursed under my breath. What was he thinking? We were so close to freeing me and now this?

Coulson smiled. “Indeed,” he said. “We have no reason to trust you.” He glanced again at the papers and shrugged. “But we’ve no reason to doubt your word, either. “

“Sir,” Sitwell protested. “Perhaps we should hold them both for questioning?”

Coulson shook his head. “On what charge?” he asked. “The ‘barrister’ hasn’t done anything we can charge him with.”

“How about interfering with an ongoing investigation?” Sitwell suggested – somewhat desperately it seemed to me.

Coulson turned a steady, unconcerned look upon his colleague, stating, “We’d nearly concluded our investigation, Sitwell.” To Fandral he merely said, “Make sure your brother sees a doctor, Mr. Blake.”

My ‘brother’ nodded a swift agreement of this plan and reached a hand for his papers. “I know just the man,” he replied. “Excellent fellow, terribly solemn and strait-laced, but he’s an excellent listener.” He turned his most winning expression on Jane. “I’ll write you an introduction,” he went on as he took her hand and laid a kiss upon it. I growled a warning, but he just winked at me.

Darcy made little fluttering motions with her hands, wiping at her eyes, and for the first time since we’d met, Coulson smiled almost in truth. “No one mentioned how you arrived, Mr. Blake,” Coulson said suddenly. “Where’d you leave your vehicle? I’ll have one of my men give the four of you a lift.”

Fandral dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “There’s no need,” he said with a laugh. “I ‘hitched’, I believe is the term, a ride with one of your neighbors.” He shrugged and straightened his neck-cloth. “I’d prefer to walk, myself, but if the ladies and my brother could use the assist, I’m sure we’d be grateful.” He pressed Jane’s hand and gave Darcy’s cheek a soft brush with his lips. “Take good care of him, ladies,” he said, while I fumed. “He’s well-loved at home despite his faults.”

Coulson frowned as both women blushed and nodded. “It’s fifty miles,” he said wonderingly. “You can’t intend to walk all that way tonight, in the dark.”

“Is it really?” Fandral asked in surprise. “It certainly didn’t seem so, but then the kindly old gentleman who gave me the lift was terribly entertaining.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Told me a wild tale of a hammer-like object that dropped down in the desert and how they’d fastened the back of his truck to the thing, hoping to pull it out of the ground but were unable to do so. I knew he was joking, of course. What ‘hammer’ could possibly be so heavy as to rip the bed of a truck right off?” He frowned a bit. “Although,” he went on, “his vehicle was missing the ‘bed’ as he called it. I did think that rather odd.”

Coulson raised a brow. “Indeed?

Fandral nodded. “Perhaps I shall accept that ride, after all.” He shook Coulson’s hand and patted me on the shoulder. “You’ll be home soon, brother dear,” he promised. “Mother keeps you in her thoughts, as do we all.”

“Well,” Coulson said, helping me to my feet with a small nod. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

I hoped we would not but I dared say nothing as Fandral slipped one arm about my shoulders and we stepped out under a cloudy sky, followed closely by several of Coulson’s guards carrying the same weapons I had seen earlier that spat smoke and fire.

The men, in their dark clothing, stopped only when we passed through. the fortress’s gates

“Really?” I asked as we left the little white room behind, our footsteps squelching through the mud. “You’re keeping me in your thoughts? Why then did it take so long for anyone to come to see me?”

He stepped back in surprise. “What do you mean?” he sputtered. “Loki came as soon as he could get away. Poor fellow has been desperate, trying to broker a truce with Jotunheim and gather up alliances with the other realms in case it all falls apart.”

“For two of Midgard’s lunar cycles?” I growled. “How long could it take to prove to Laufey we’d destroy them utterly and leave their night-blasted realm a smoking ruin if they attacked us?”

“It’s only been four days,” Fandral snapped in return. “And perhaps you should be grateful he came at all and that he sent me to fetch you out of there.” He shook his head and flung an arm about my shoulder once more. “Be patient, Thor,” he whispered close to my ear. “Loki has a great deal on his mind, what with Odin sleeping and your Mother fretting herself sick that he might never wake.” My friend sighed. “Dearest Sif’s not helping either. She’s going about blaming Loki for the whole bloody mess, saying if he’d pushed harder none of us would have gone to Jotunheim, blah, blah, blah, and he should have defended you when Odin was storming about and if anyone was unworthy and needing to be banished it was Loki, not you. Some of the Einherjar are agreeing with her, which makes things even more difficult for him and I swear if he or your Mother doesn’t strangle her, I might.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Four days?” I could not believe what I had just heard. How could so much have happened in four days? And since when would Fandral oppose Sif and defend Loki?

“Four days,” Fandral said. “Surely you knew things move faster here.”

“They don’t seem to move very fast,” I muttered. “If anything, time drags. Fandral,” I said, clutching at his arm. “I am bored nearly to death. There is nothing to do here.”

“You’ll have something to do come Monday when you start at Izzy’s,” Darcy called back. “So get a move on before Agent Coulson changes his mind.” She wiped again at her eyes and blew her nose.

Jane frowned. “Are you okay? You’re not coming down with anything, are you?”

Darcy shook her head. “Nope, not coming down with anything, but that pepper spray was effective as hell.” She rubbed at her eyes again. “You may have to drive, Jane, damn stuff is lasting way longer than I thought.”

“Where are we going?” I asked as Fandral and I hurried to rejoin them.

“I’m going home and drinking myself stupid,” Jane answered. “My life is ruined and I just want to forget this night ever happened.”

“I should be making my way back home as well,” Fandral muttered, glancing about as though looking for something. “But my ‘ride’seems to have vanished.”

Darcy slipped her arm through his. “I thought you were going to ride with us,” she said, gazing up at him with wide eyes. “And maybe explain a few things about home and why your brother’s the way he is.”

Fandral patted her hand. “I said that,” he said, “so as not to involve an innocent party in my brother’s problems.”

I ground my teeth and drew him closer, nearly thrusting Darcy to one side. “Can you not find your own way back, brother?”

“How?” my supposed brother hissed. “It’s not as though I know the paths we took.”

“Stop being such a party-pooper, Donald,” Darcy laughed, slipping her arm through Fandral’s once again. “If his ride’s gone without him, why shouldn’t he come with us?”

“How lovely,” Fandral laughed. “And would I be too forward if I asked to join you for that drink?” He waved a little notebook before the two women. “I took the opportunity of liberating this,” he said cheerfully as Jane gasped. “I thought it might be important to you.”

“Oh. My. God!” Jane threw her arms tightly around his neck, and this time I found myself thrust aside. “How’d you manage? You have no idea how important that is. It means I don’t have to start over from scratch. How’d you know it was mine?”

“It didn’t seem like it belonged with the other items there,” Fandral answered. “As to the manner of its liberation, I shall have to share that with you another time,” my friend promised. “Suffice it to say I’m a man of many talents.”

“Good on you,” Darcy muttered, giving me a sly glance. “Guess we can see where the brains are in your family.”

I stopped short, unused to being passed over in such a way. And, for Fandral to be acting the hero in my place was even more a surprise.

“Oh,” Jane exclaimed. “There’s the Jeep.” She looked puzzled. “How’d that get here?” She checked her bag. “I took the keys, didn’t I? Where are they?”

Darcy patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Janie,” she said. “We’ll be fine. I’m a woman of many talents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Crazy_Cat_Lady who really made this better.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's free of S.H.I.E.L.D. custody but not out of trouble

“You do realize we’re being followed,” Fandral said from behind me where he sat next to Jane. I turned my face toward the vehicle’s window and pretended to watch the scenery rushing past, trying to catch a glimpse of this pursuit, but I saw nothing, and could not turn for a better look without removing the seat’s belt which I had been warned on several occasions never to do whilst the ‘vehicle is in motion’.  

“That Coulson guy seemed so nice when he offered you that job,” Darcy grumbled. “Who’d a guessed he’d turn out to be such a grouch.”

“Oh, of course we would be,” Jane sighed. “It’s not enough they kept all my equipment and dragged Erik off to God only knows where. God, I hope he’s all right.” She frowned. “They probably missed the notebook right after we left and want it back.” She sighed again and leaned closer to my friend. “Thank you for rescuing it,” she said softly. “Even if it does mean they’ll probably ransack the lab looking for it.”

Fandral hadn’t sounded especially worried; and I wondered if perhaps he was inventing dangers in order to impress Jane and Darcy. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I felt strongly that as soon as possible I should get my friend alone and explain to him that these two females were potent witches, not the tittering tavern wenches he was accustomed to.

Darcy turned her head slightly as she slowed the vehicle to a less exhilarating speed. She was gazing ferociously into the little mirror mounted beside her head, so it seemed Fandral had not invented the threat. “You have got to be shitting me,” she exclaimed.

I tried my window, and its small accompanying mirror once more and at last made out the tiny black speck of another vehicle, far in the distance. It was not gaining on us, and I would have questioned it being on our trail and not just going the same direction, had it not been black like all the vehicles on the base of SHIELD, and had there been any sign of other traffic in this remote place. Whoever they were, they seemed content to keep their distance. The land rushing past was dotted with what Darcy had explained was cactus, sagebrush, succulents and scrub, home to various species of serpent, arachnid, raptor and four-legged predator all of whom would be more than happy to kill you whilst you fled or slept and feed on the carcass. ‘Twas nothing like Asgard and I missed home more than ever.

As the light in the sky faded, the last rays of the sun caught the tattering remnants of the scattering rain clouds, painting them red and gold and violet. The normally dry and rocky desert soil had turned to mud, and the jeep splashed valiantly through puddles and skidded once or twice. Several times we found ourselves almost trapped in the muck and ooze. It made me mindful how filthy I was at present.   Were I not so shamed, I would laugh. My fastidious little brother would be horrified. And then I recalled Loki had already seen me in my dirt and bruises and commented on them not at all. It had been most unlike Loki, I thought, not to have teased me about it at all.

“This is harassment, Janie,” Darcy complained bitterly. “We ought to get a lawyer!”

“Hmm,” Jane replied, noncommittally. She had her recovered book open and was frantically copying notes onto a handful of paper napkins she had found in the glove box.

“Wait a minute!” Darcy turned and jabbed a finger towards my purported ‘brother’. “We have a lawyer! You’re a lawyer! You can make them stop!”

The jeep swerved slightly, causing my stomach to lurch, and Jane to squeak. Darcy quickly steadied her course, looking unruffled.

“Would you wish me to prevent them following?” my friend asked eagerly, reaching for the door’s locking mechanism.

“No!” Jane’s papers tumbled to the floor as she lunged to strike at his hand, preventing him. “Will you please just stay put? You’ll kill yourself!”

“Not I,” Fandral grinned dashingly, leaning closer to Jane. As she looked at him doubtfully, his smile turned warm and beguiling. I began to think I should intercede, though it would require removing the seat’s belt, which I knew from sad experience would anger Jane and Darcy.

“Do you fear for me, fair lady?” He leaned closer still to Jane, so close their lips were nearly touching. Darcy’s gaze lingered on them in the looking glass, and her lips curved in a smile. The car swerved again, sending the two of them apart as they sought handholds. I felt inordinately pleased.

“Your brother’s quite the charmer isn’t he?” Darcy laughed, again regaining control, and I nodded and gritted my teeth.

“Is he like this with everybody?” she asked, as Jane bent to retrieve her notes and book and pen.

I could see where Fandral’s eyes lingered and I frowned. “Yes,” I grumbled. It was Fandral’s way, and it had never bothered me before, but now I was finding it irksome.

Fandral leaned forward with a wink and rested one hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Oh, not everybody,” he protested, smiling. “I save my meager talents only for ladies as beauteous, clever and charming as the two of you.”

I watched a blush steal across her cheek and I groaned.   My stomach groaned as well - loudly.

At least it diverted Darcy’s attention, and she turned her smirk on me. “That ‘mortal body’ of yours require sustenance, does it?”

“Yes,” I muttered as I felt Fandral stiffen behind me. I did not find it amusing in the least for I’d eaten nothing in what felt like days and my suffering at the hands of Coulson and his minions only added to my feeling of privation.

I winced as Fandral’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. “That was a poor jest,” he hissed softly into my ear.

I shook my head. “ ‘tis no jest,” I grumbled and felt him draw back as though I burned him.

“Nope,” Darcy had heard our exchange. “Not kidding. He’s done nothing since we picked him up weeks ago but bitch about how hungry he is and on-and-on-and-on. Fainting from hunger, right Jane?” She chuckled and I clenched my teeth. It would not get me fed any more quickly if I snapped at her, and it might get me another dose of her lightning.

Jane was absorbed in her work and did not reply. He leaned closer. “You and I will speak more of this later,” he promised. I shrugged, not knowing what there was to speak of.

In the glass, I saw my friend frown and shake his head, but he let it go in favor of returning to the subject of our pursuers.

“I could prevent them from following. It would be a simple matter for me to exit your vehicle and put a halt to their interference.”

“Wow,” Darcy gasped. “How? Have you got restraining orders in your pocket, too?”  

Fandral just smiled knowingly.

“For reals?” Darcy shot me an interrogatory scowl. “Is your brother some kind of a magician as well as a lawyer?”

I saw Fandral’s eyes narrow at the insult, but he held his tongue.

Jane, finally drawn back out of her work, sighed explosively. “It wouldn’t do us any good,” she argued. “They know where the lab is and they know where I live so, if you stopped this bunch, they’d just send more and we wouldn’t know where or when or who until they showed up. And it’s not like the courts are going to side with us against a government security organization.”

“That wasn’t precisely what I had in mind,” Fandral said, enigmatically.

Jane didn’t appear to to be listening to him. “Right now they don’t seem to be trying to stop us. All I want to do is get back to the lab long enough to hide at least some of my research before they can confiscate it again. And I still want you to tell me you how you managed to sneak it away from Agent Coulson,” she told Fandral.”I owe you a drink for that.”

I, too, wondered how he’d accomplished that bit of subterfuge. Fandral was not ordinarily so subtle and he’d never been much use as a thief – even when the theft was his idea. Vaguely, I remembered a lovely Alf-maid my friend had wished to impress by presenting her with gifts from a dragon’s lair. That had not worked out well at all. Indeed, we five – Sif, the Warriors Three and I – had come near being roasted alive and we had lost Loki, in the guise of a little female dragon, for days inside the beast’s cave. I had not Mjolnir then, I remembered, or it would have gone quite differently and we’d not have needed to distract the thing with my little brother.

“Sounds like a plan,” Darcy said, firming her grip on the steering wheel and popping her gum. “How’s about we just get a little more of a head start?” Grinning wildly, she pressed her foot harder on the lever controlling the vehicle’s momentum. It growled and leaped forward like a charging bilgesnipe, slewing up great plumes of mud behind us.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Jane cried, leaning forward and, at the last moment thinking better of striking Darcy while she was controlling our suddenly much faster progress.

She turned her violence upon me instead, striking me hard between the shoulder blades. I grunted in surprise and turned to stare at her.

Her normally warm brown eyes were hot and accusing as Jane shrieked, “Don’t just sit there, Donald! Stop her!”

What did she expect me to do? I had no idea how to operate this machine or make it cease. Fandral and Loki were the ones most familiar with such operations, not I. Indeed, many a time had I witnessed the pair of them racing the Einharjar’s flying boats over and under the bridge leading to Asgard’s Observatory and the site of the Bifrost’s beginning. They flew at such speeds as must certainly, were anyone else at the controls, result in damage to both boat and bridge and maiming, if not worse, to the occupant.

A loud spattering of sudden fat raindrops against the windshield alerted us that the storms that had seemed spent were not done yet after all, and that while we had been arguing the sky outside had grown ominously dark. We all fell silent, and Darcy eased back marginally on the acceleration.

Of a sudden, a speeding animal leaped into our path, darting this way and that in a frantic attempt to escape. Darcy screamed, hurriedly spinning the wheel. The Jeep, acting much like a lunging steed whose reins were pulled too severely, spun off the track and there was a loud bang, followed by a long shrieking noise. A moment later, we lurched to an uncomfortably abrupt halt, landing our transport in the midst of a cluster of very prickly looking plants.

“Shit!” Darcy yelped, once we had come to a stop. “Everybody’s okay?”

“What the hell was that?” Jane gasped.

“Ouch,” Fandral complained mildly, rubbing at his chest and looking woefully at his fine Midgardian shirt, which had been shorn of several buttons by the tightening strap across his chest. Jane had released her own harness and was now pressed tight against his side, petting him in wholly unnecessary sympathy.

“Why is it, brother, that no outing with you can ever end without some mishap that leaves me the one injured?” Fandral griped.

“A torn shirt is not an injury,” I informed him, annoyed. Jane shot me an irate look, for what I knew not. If anyone had cause to complain of injuries suffered on our quests it was not Fandral but rather Loki or myself. And then I remembered that ill-fated journey to Jotunheim and felt the blood rush to my face. Indeed, on that occasion my friend had been most severely injured almost to death.

“I feel certain I will have bruises,” Fandral retorted, capturing Jane’s hand to press over his breast. I growled under my breath.

“We were all lucky not to have been really hurt, or even killed!” Jane’s voice rose. “Darcy, what is the matter with you!”

Darcy glared between all three of us, though her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and her voice quavered. “You were totally distracting me!” she wailed.

“You were trying to outrun SHIELD on a muddy desert track, and now you’re blaming me?” Jane threw up her hands. “Never mind. Let’s just get going.”

Darcy sniffed, and tried turning the key. Nothing happened. She tried again with the same lack of result.

“Darcy?” Jane had stopped fussing over Fandral to lean over the seat.

“Okay,” Darcy muttered, “This is totally not my fault!”

“How is it not your fault?” Jane yelled.

“Everything was just fine till you told Donald to stop me,” Darcy argued fiercely. “So I was watching him in case he tried something, and then you hit him, and distracted me and when I looked back there was this huge THING running across the road!”

“You swerved to avoid a jackrabbit? Are you crazy? You’d kill us all to save a rabbit?” Jane’s voice rose with near every word.

“It was a damn sight bigger than a rabbit. It looked as big as a kangaroo.”

“Antelope, then,” Jane mumbled, sliding down in her seat. “Same diff. You nearly killed four human beings to avoid hitting wildlife.” She sniffed, too.

Attempting to soothe the two women, I offered, “It was larger than a rabbit, and moving most erratically.”

“Fine,” Jane grumbled. Her face lightened as Fandral began to rub her shoulders. “It was totally understandable, I guess, but why aren’t we moving now?”

Darcy tried the key again. “We must’ve damaged something from that bounce we took.   Unless,” she added with a suspicious glance at Jane, “somebody forgot to fill her up last time they went trolling for stargates?”

“I never forget to gas-up, Darcy Georgette Lewis and you know it.”

Darcy peered out at the rain and the thorny foliage surrounding us. “I guess we should get out and take a look?”

“Or else prepare to do battle,” Fandral suggested, turning to point to where the car that had been tailing after us was now quickly approaching.

“We can’t fight them!” Jane yipped, looking alarmed.

“Verily, we can,” Fandral countered with high humor, turning to me as he reached again for his door opening lever. “Brother, shall we?”

“No!” Jane threw herself bodily onto him to prevent him, just as the large black vehicle stopped alongside our own crippled one.

With a sour expression, Darcy rolled down her window.

The other vehicle had black tinted windows, but the one nearest Darcy came down as well, revealing the hairless serpent-smiled Agent Sitwell.

He looked thoroughly smug as he proclaimed, “Phil said you all needed watching over, and it looks like he was right. It’s a good thing for you we decided to make sure you got home safe and sound.”

“No thanks!” Darcy called loudly to him. “We can handle it!”

“Should we not fight them?” Fandral asked me, uncertainly. I was no less confused as to what they were up to. It did not seem they meant to return us to the custody of SHIELD, though, and I wished to keep it that way, if for no other reason than Jane should keep her book which she prized so.

“Not yet,” I murmured, shaking my head.

“Darcy!” Jane hissed, “Don’t antagonize the nice government agents!”

Sitwell and two other men had exited their own vehicle and had us surrounded. Sitwell carried a large black rain shield, but the other two made do with water-resistant coats.

“We’re just here to help, Miss Lewis,” Sitwell’s gloating expression made me long to accede to Fandral’s plan of giving them all a sound beating. “We’ll have that tire fixed for you in no time and you can be on your way.”

“Tire?” Darcy stuck her head out, trying to see the tires. “The engine isn’t starting.”

“You’ve got a flat, too,” one of the nameless men informed her. “But pop the hood and we’ll check it out. Probably just a loose wire or something.”

“No thanks,” Darcy caroled. “We can fix it ourselves.”

“That’s right! We will meet this challenge on our own!” Fandral leaned across Jane to second loudly out Darcy’s window. Then he turned back to me. “Do you have any idea how to fix it?”

I stared at him. “Not in the least. It belongs to Jane and Darcy. I assume it is their magic…”

Observing our interchange, Jane’s eyes grew wider and wider, and now she rolled down her own window, careless of the rain blowing in, and shouted, “Don’t mind them, we’d love some help!”

Darcy performed a spell to raise Jane’s window. “No we don’t!” She turned around to look at Jane. “Are you nuts? They probably just want to haul us back to their secret base!”

From my side of the Jeep, a large, dark-skinned man in a black hooded coat yelled, “We could leave you here, if you’d rather!”

I wondered if this was the same giant I had fought out there in the rain outside the maze wherein lay my hammer; the hood and the rain obscured his face too much to be sure.

“No,” Jane cried from the vehicle’s interior. “Please! Darcy’s just a little on edge. She doesn’t mean anything by it, honest.”

“We’d really be quite grateful for your assistance,” Fandral added.

Darcy frowned stubbornly. “Okay, if you can get us going, fine. But if you can’t, we’re walking home!”

“Or we could just take their vehicle,” Fandral suggested, in a bright undertone, smiling with so much mischief I suddenly wondered if he were not Loki in disguise.

The hairless agent didn’t seem to have heard him, for he answered Darcy. “That would not be very wise,” he said. “It can be dangerous out here at night.” He glanced at the sky. “It’s especially dangerous in this weather and you not familiar with the area.”

“We’ve been here longer than you have,” Darcy muttered and I gripped her arm a bit tighter.

“If you can’t fix it, we’ll call a tow truck,” Jane corrected, and poked Darcy sharply. “Open the hood so they can look.”

Sullenly, Darcy closed her own window, then felt around for a hidden lever and pulled it. There was a popping sound, and the front of the Jeep opened in a way I had not known it capable of. Another agent did something off to the side, and the vehicle began to rise slowly into the air.

“What is happening?” I cried, reaching now for my own door lever.

“Are they intending to get us back onto the track?” Fandral peered out. “It seems a very slow method.”

“Dude, they are jacking us up so they can change the tire,” Darcy explained. “You seriously don’t know how to change a tire?”

“Where we come from, if we can’t ride a horse somewhere, we go by boat, or by Bifr- uhm… by bridge.”

“Horses and boats?” Jane looked utterly transfixed. “Where is this, anyway? It sounds like a fairytale kingdom.”

“It is like another world,” Fandral agreed, smoothly, before changing the subject. “Is the propulsion system in that compartment, then?” Fandral asked, curiously.

“Propulsion system?” Darcy echoed, looking over at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe anybody with a Y chromosome doesn’t know more than that about cars!”

“Darcy!” Jane rebuked her companion sharply, “Quit being rude! He just got us out of SHIELD custody, after all!”

“Just sayin’.” Darcy tossed her head, beating out time on the wheel of steering and singing under her breath.

Jane turned back to Fandral. “I guess if you grew up somewhere like that, it sort of explains your brother’s fantasy life?”

In the mirror out my window, I saw the SHIELD giant removing one of the Jeep’s tires. Another tire lay ready at hand to put on. “My life is no fantasy,” I protested. “At least it has not been since I was cast out here! It’s been more like a nightmare!”

Darcy snorted inelegantly. “Yeah, a nightmare where you get free food and rent, right? Pretty awful.”

“If my brother has been a burden on you ladies,” Fandral began.

“No, not really!” Jane hastened to tell him. “It’s just that my grant money only goes so far and-“

“And he eats like one of those horses you guys grew up with!” Darcy finished, just as the replacement tire was fastened securely, and the Jeep began to rapidly descend.

“I may be able to get some repayment for you,” Fandral offered, winning Jane’s grateful smile.

“I will repay my own debts,” I declared, giving him a look. “It has already been arranged.”

Agent Sitwell rapped on Darcy’s window. She rolled it down the least amount possible. “What?”

“Looks like there were some wires knocked loose. Try the engine now.”

She tried the key, and the engine rumbled willingly to life. Jane let out a joyous exclamation.

“You’re all set, ladies and gentlemen,” one of the men called from the rear of the vehicle while his companion made his way to the side and peered within.

“You’re going to want to have that tire replaced,” he said, “and that spare isn’t going to last much longer off-road.” He smiled, white teeth gleaming in the dark. “It’s just a suggestion, miss.”

Darcy nodded. “Thanks,” she said, sounding much like Loki when he was not at all thankful but had to pretend to be, as she pressed upon the make-go lever. The vehicle growled and rushed backwards, causing Sitwell to have to hurry to get out of the way, then launched into forward motion, heading eagerly towards home.

We had not gone far when the black vehicle returned to following us, from a distance. Darcy glowered into the behind viewing mirror.

“This is some kind of freaking psy-ops,” she grumbled, adding a little more speed. Our ‘escort’ matched our pace, neither gaining nor falling behind.

“Sigh Ops?” I questioned, not sure I had heard her correctly.

“You know,” Darcy took a hand from the wheel to wave vaguely around, “Gaslighting! Head games! They’re trying to get us to crack under the pressure!”

Enlightened, I grinned. “They will ne’er succeed with such paltry tricks as these. Even were we not stout of heart and strong of will, these are as nothing compared to my brother’s tricks!”

“Like what?” Darcy called back to Fandral, whom I had forgotten was posing as my brother. “Speaking of tricks, the way you got us out of there was pretty awesome. Like, epic awesome, Thor’s brother who is a super awesome lawyer!”

“Donald, you mean,” Fandral corrected her.

“Hey, yeah,” she scrunched up her face in bewilderment. “How did you know we were calling him Donald, and show up with paperwork, even! That was amazing.”

“You mean his name is not Donald Blake?” Fandral teased. “Brother, what have you been telling these fair ladies?”

“Not ridiculous lies,” I growled, crossing my arms. “They gave me that name after the angry duck, to better fit in, they said.”

“Dude!” Darcy snorted, “Not after the duck. Donald is Jane’s ex’s name. We explained that already.”

At this, Jane paused in her attempts to reproduce her notebook on a greasy hamburger wrapper and groaned softly. “I really need a drink.”

“Speaking of names,” Darcy said apologetically to Fandral, “I forgot yours already. I can’t just keep calling you Thor’s bro, or lawyer dude.”

“You may call me by any name that pleases you, and I would hasten to you without delay,” Fandral flirted, “But my name is Fandral the Dashing.”

“The Dashing?” Jane looked up, uncertainly.

“Van Drell? Is that German or Spanish or Dutch, or what?” Darcy asked.

“Fandral,” Fandral corrected. “It is quite foreign indeed. I will tell you all about it, but first, I also would welcome a flagon of strong ale,” Fandral agreed. “Let us go to a tavern.”

“I’m not sure we’re welcome at our local ‘tavern’,” Jane pointed out. “We kind of caused a brawl and wrecked the place.”

Fandral laughed uproariously. “I see you have not lacked for entertainment without me, brother!”

“I just want to go home,” Jane urged. She had written copies of her work on every scrap of available paper, and was now in the process of secreting these notes inside her bodice, which seemed strange to me, since her blouse and trousers both had pockets.

“We shall hold our feast at your dwelling, then,” Fandral decided. “’tis an excellent choice! It is always good to have a shorter journey to one’s bed after a night of merry making! Even better, a beautiful woman’s bed!”

Darcy shot him a look, which he met with an unrepentant leer. She barked a laugh. “Dude, you are like, a total horndog.”

“Fandral!” I turned to shake my head at him. My efforts to discourage him were about as successful as they had ever been. Only Loki had ever managed to sway him from lechery, and even he had sometimes resorted to magic to do so.

“I don’t know about a ‘feast’,” Jane’s face was pink and she looked like she was having second thoughts about inviting Fandral to join us. “Maybe sandwiches? I think we still have some ham…”

“Barbecue!,” Darcy cried as she drove. I stared in surprise. “We’ll have a barbecue when we get back to the lab!”

“Excuse me?” Jane called from her seat next my ‘brother’. “What are you talking about?”

“Donald’s hungry,” the dark-haired young woman explained. “We’re all hungry.   They may have fed you,” she continued, “but I bet they didn’t feed Donald and all I got was what I had in my bag, which was a half a Kit Kat bar and some stale crackers. It’s like we were prisoners or something.” She glanced at me. “Did they feed you?”

I shook my head. Indeed I had eaten nothing since the evening meal the night of our ‘celebration’.

“See?” Darcy exclaimed in triumph. “I told you. Poor guy’s starving so I vote we have a good old-fashioned cookout when we get home. We’ll pop some burgers and dogs on the grill, and I’ve got my famous homemade potato and macaroni salads, and we’ll roast corn on the cob,” she went on excitedly and my stomach rumbled in response. “We’ll have a party!”

“We’ll have a party?” Jane’s voice was shrill in my ears and I thought I saw Fandral wince. “My career is in ruins and you want to throw a party? Are you nuts?”

My stomach rumbled again. Selvig had brought home ‘hamburgers’ on several occasions, and they had been delicious, if small. The idea of cooking them ourselves over a fire held tremendous appeal. It would be like camping with my friends during our adventures. Maybe Darcy and Jane could be persuaded to roast some larger haunches of meat? Though, I was loath to sample dog – hot or otherwise.

“When do you think would be better?” Darcy asked, shrugging. “Food always makes you feel better, though nobody’d know it to look at you. You’re skinny as a damn rail. You know guys prefer women with a little meat on their bones, right?” She looked to Fandral for confirmation.

My friend was long-acquainted with dodging this query, and only smiled as he replied, “It isn’t a woman’s body that makes her beautiful, but her spirit.”

Darcy made an impressed whooping sound, and grinned at him in the mirror. “Oh, dude,” she exclaimed. “You are just the slickest ever! I bet you win all your cases, don’t you?”

“I have rarely been defeated,” my pretended-brother agreed.

“I don’t feel like eating,” Jane was blushing deeply, and pressing her fingers to her cheeks, trying to cool them.

“You need to eat if you want to drink. Otherwise you’re just going to be sick and then pass out. And then be sick some more when you wake up,” Darcy reasoned.

Fandral and I both nodded knowingly, having also learned our lessons about drinking spirits on an empty stomach.

Jane ducked her head, looking stubborn.

Darcy wheedled, “My mom sent me some homemade truffles that she and Aunt George made.”

“Your mom sent homemade truffles?” Jane asked with a catch in her voice. “For real?”

“Yep.” Darcy turned off the rutted desert track onto the paved road leading into town, and the ride became smoother, which likely soothed everyone’s mood somewhat. “But those are for dessert. We need some real food first. Right guys?”

I nodded as did Fandral, though the only ‘truffles’ with which we were familiar were the ones which grew in the forests of Alfheim and were favored by the wild boar there. Roasted, the things were, indeed, quite good. I had never thought of them as a ‘desert’, and had no idea how one might be made at home. Perhaps Darcy’s mother and mother’s sister were witches as well, and had enchanted them to grow?

Jane still looked doubtful. “How are we supposed to afford all this? We spent almost all the rest of the grant money the other night on drinks, or don’t you remember?”

An expression of horrified realization bloomed on her face, and she exclaimed to me, “You were supposed to start work this morning! I’ve got to call Izzy and explain!”

She dug out her phone and began tapping on the screen. Putting it to her ear, she listened nervously, then began speaking quickly to whoever was on the other end, apologizing and trying to explain why I had not come to the diner to begin my term of service. She was not explaining very well, since it seemed she did not wish to tell Izzy about the SHIELD agents. Nor did she get very far. After a moment she stammered to a halt, listening to the little device, and her expression became more and more unhappy. Finally, she apologized and put the phone away, then buried her face in her hands and wept disconsolately.

“Fired, huh?” Darcy guessed.

“She said she’s found somebody else already,” Jane wailed from behind her hands. “Somebody ‘reliable’. We can’t afford a party! We can’t even afford to eat for the rest of the month, unless it’s Ramen noodles!”

“Pfft,” her friend scoffed. “I’ve got some money I won playing pool. Besides, Donald’s brother is a lawyer, and his family is rich. They can start helping out if he’s going to stay with us.”

Jane’s head came up and she cried indignantly, “Darcy!”

“What?” Darcy retorted. “Van Drell already said he was going to start chipping in!”

“I did not bring many funds with me,” Fandral said, cautiously.

“You can pay me back,” Darcy said, as we turned off at the site of Jane’s laboratory and the trailers. The black SHIELD vehicle, which had followed us all the way, drove slowly by, not stopping as we all got out and watched them pass. Darcy waved at them.

“Don’t provoke them! I’ve got to find some way to hide my notebook before they come back!” She moved quickly toward her little wheeled house.

“I’m taking a shower! Crawling around SHIELD property is not conducive to staying pristine, exactly,” Darcy called over her shoulder as she headed into her own abode. “Donald had better get one, too,” she pointed out, giving me a shove in the direction Jane had gone.

I resisted and followed Darcy instead, trudging more slowly. I too wished a shower, but doubted that there would be any hot water left. I decided to strip out of my muddy clothing, exchanging them for the clothes I had worn the previous day, from the hamper.

Fandral followed me into the washroom and watched as I combed the dried mud from my hair. Darcy was singing lustily in the shower, and his eyes kept straying to the glass that was protecting her from our gaze. He knew better than to attempt sneaking a glimpse, though, and, putting temptation firmly behind him, he turned his back on the shower, gazing only a little wistfully at the fogged mirror.

“Is it true?” he asked, in a low voice, barely audible over Darcy’s song about lost love. He waved a hand in the direction the young witch had gone. “You’re as mortal as they are?” I nodded and he frowned. “Loki said nothing of this,” he grumbled.

“We are never ever getting back together!” Darcy caroled, defiantly.

“What did he say?” I asked, leaning closer to hear above her.

“Only that you were stripped of your powers and banished and I was to speak as he told me to get you free of their mortal authorities so you might regain your powers.” He paused, waiting, but I could think of nothing to say.

“Bah,” he snorted. “I like it not that your brother would keep such a thing secret from us – from me – when he most particularly wished my aid in freeing you from that place.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t know,” I argued, though it was difficult to imagine Loki not knowing something, especially something as important to his plans as that. Fandral’s dark expression seemed to agree with me. I shook my head, setting down the comb, and picked up a wash cloth, wetting it in preparation of washing the grime from my face.

Fandral’s mouth was opening to speak, but he was cut off by an ear-piercing shriek, followed by scrambling behind the glass, and curses.

“Will you please stop running the damned water?”

Hurriedly I turned the flow off and took my cloth, swiping at my face as I retreated, with Fandral in step.

“A formidable female,” he noted, as I dropped the now mostly brown wash cloth in the hamper on top of my muddy clothes.

“She is indeed. She felled me like a tree, only moments after I arrived,” I warned.

“Really?” His blue eyes shone at this, and I groaned inwardly, wondering why I had thought this would put him off. My friend had always relished risky liaisons. Quiet, demure maidens held no appeal to his senses.

We left Darcy to her shower and went back outside to speak privately of affairs back home.

“What news of home?” I asked, setting myself on a large rock beside an open pit.

Fandral shrugged. “Not much more I fear than what Loki brought,” he responded. “What did your brother tell you had befallen the Golden Realm?”

I sighed. “He said Father had fallen into Odin-sleep and he was made king,” I grumbled.

“Regent,” my friend corrected. “Loki refused the crown, though he could neither refuse the staff nor the throne as the Queen said Asgard was imperiled with none to rule.”

“Refused?” I stammered. “Why would he refuse when it has been our greatest dream since we were children?” ‘You were both born to be kings’. I remembered Father saying and remembered, too, my pride when I thought my time had finally come. “And why could Mother not have acted as regent? She has done so in the past when All-Father Odin slept.”

My friend frowned. “I know not, only that Loki said she would not leave your Father’s side. He said she feared Odin might never wake, that they had waited too long and were unprepared.”

Yes, I thought Loki might have said the same to me. I believed it no more coming from my friend’s lips than I had from my brother’s. How could they have ‘waited too long’ and yet been unprepared? It seemed to me that the longer one waited, the more prepared you should be. I could leave those questions for a later time in favor of those closer to my heart.

“How fares Asgard under my brother’s rule?” I asked, nervously. Loki was so clever I was certain he would have the Council and all the nobles bent to his will, as he had already claimed the hearts of the common folk, and I would find no place for me when I returned – if I returned. He might say he had no wish to be king, but I knew far better than he the pull of power and adoration. Once he felt their grip, he would be loath to relinquish it.

“Rule?” Fandral asked, puzzled. “It has been but three days since you were banished and two only since the All-Father fell into that damned sleep. There has not been much opportunity for Loki to ‘rule’ anything save only his temper.”

I stared up at him. “Temper?” My brother had no temper. Loki was the coldest, most controlled creature in all of Asgard. The very thought of him struggling to rein in his temper, as I should have done mine, was ludicrous.

“Aye,” Fandral said a bit more sharply than I was used to hearing from him. “Your brother has a waspish temper. Already he has threatened to send Sif back to her father’s house and banish her from the city forthwith for ‘spreading tales’, as he put it.”

My head spun as I tried to make sense of that. “What tales could she possibly tell that would make Loki take such a step?” We were all friends, were we not? Why would my brother suddenly turn on those closest to us?

Fandral held up a finger. “First, she has suggested your brother may have aided the Frost Giants’ entry into Asgard.”

My jaw dropped as another finger joined the first. “Second, she has hinted – strongly – that your banishment was orchestrated by your brother to give him opportunity to seize the throne.”

“Third,” he went on inexorably even as I waved him to silence. “She dared to accuse Loki of causing your Father’s fall in the Weapons’ Vault and thus preventing Odin from forgiving you and returning you to Asgard.” He sighed. “It was then that your brother swore should she carry this any further he would personally drive her out of the City – with a whip if need be.”

My eyes nearly started from my head. Loki? Threaten violence to Sif? I could not imagine my little brother . . . and then I remembered a time when he had done magical harm upon one who had abused his own power and authority and I shivered.

“Did no one protest such a course of action?” I asked. “Such talk, amongst the four of you does no harm. It is merely Sif jesting among friends, surely.”

Now Fandral’s brows shot up in surprise. “Did I not tell you e’en before we entered the Lady Darcy’s chariot, that Sif was spreading her tales amongst the Einherjar? Do you remember nothing of what we spoke of then?” He shook his head and clasped my shoulder. “She has even broached the subject in the taverns and inns where the Council members’ servants bide when their masters are in the City.”

If that were indeed the case, it was no wonder Loki had threatened Sif with banishment. I wondered what I would have done had a friend spread such tales of me. And then I wondered how a ‘friend’ could spread such tales. Yes, Loki was ever a one for pranks and mischief but never had his pranks caused any real harm – save perhaps turning Sif’s golden hair black.   Did she still harbor a grudge for that?

Now Darcy emerged, looking dewy and fresh and carrying a large, lumpy bag under one arm, and a bottle and wand in her other hand. She was still humming the same tune, and I was relieved she had forgiven me for my error in turning on the water.

Fandral and I both hurried to assist her, but he took the bag before I could reach for it. She gave him a sunny smile that caused a serpent of envy to crawl through me, though she was still smiling when she turned and pressed the odd bottle and wand into my hands, and danced across to a fire pit made of earthen bricks, with a bed of cold ashes and a metal grate. She directed Fandral to put the bag down next to it, and he obliged.

Determined to make myself helpful in some small way, I waited for her to take back her potion and wand, but she did not.

“So, Janie’s in a mood, and I’m going to stay out of her way till she calms down some,” she said. “I need to go buy stuff for our cookout anyhow. Can you go ahead and get the fire started?”

“Aye,” I nodded, glad to be given a task I was familiar with at last.

“Great.” She started to turn away.

“Where do I find wood?” I asked, because this was not a forested region where one could find it easily on the ground.

She turned back and kicked the lumpy bag. “We’re using good old fashioned charcoal, not wood. Okay?” She looked at me hesitantly. “Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“I have made many cook fires,” I insisted. “But with wood only. I have never used coal.”

“Well, it’s pretty much the same, except you have to use lighter fluid to get it started,” she pointed to the potion she had given me.

“And the wand?” I asked, holding it out. She rolled her eyes but took it from me and demonstrated how to hold down a button before pulling a trigger to produce a small flame. To my pleasure, it worked just as well for me, even though I was no magician. Fandral watched, thoughtfully, but made no comment.

“All set?” She asked, clearly eager to go to her shopping.

“Yes.” I did not wish to delay her, and if I should have trouble, Fandral was here to help me.

“Do you mind coming with me?” Darcy invited Fandral. “It’ll go faster with two people, and you can help me carry stuff on the way back.”

“As you wish,” Fandral assured her with a slight bow, a pleased smile lighting his face.

Her return grin was mischievous, almost Loki-like. “You’re a Princess Bride fan, too? You totally rock the look, dude. Besides”, she said, as they exited the flimsy wire gate, “I want to scope out where the men in black have got to.”

“You are seeking out the SHIELD spies?” I demanded, not wishing to be left out of this venture. “I will come with you!”

“No, nada, nein, nyet, and I mean that in a totally nugatory way, capeche?” Darcy answered, waving her hands. “You’re the one they’re watching. Well, you and Jane.”

“Worry not, ‘brother’,” Fandral put his hand on her shoulder and smiled, “We are only going to find them, not fight them.”

I gave Fandral a suspicious glance. Oh, how well I remembered my own words to Loki before setting out for Jotunheim and how badly that had ended. “We’re only going to find answers.” Hah!   I could only hope my friend controlled his temper better than I had mine. If only my little brother were here to give us counsel as he should have been on Jotunheim.

“Besides,” Darcy argued, “We can’t leave Janie here all alone, right? You stay here and keep her safe. And get the fire going. We won’t be long!”

Allowing me no more time to argue against this plan, they hurried off, striding side by side. Though I wished greatly to go after them, I could not leave Jane unguarded. I sighed and turned to my assigned task.

First, I removed the metal grate, and scooped out the old ashes with the little shovel and pail that were beside the fire pit. Then I turned to pick up the provided fuel. The large bag was light, and made of thick paper and seemed to be sewn shut. Though I used all the skill at my disposal, I could not unpick the threads. At last my temper gave way and I resorted to ripping it open. It was filled with small black lumps of a substance like that used by blacksmiths. Pouring them out into the pit, I then took up the bottle of ‘lighter fluid’, figured out how to open the little nozzle, and squeezed it all out, thoroughly soaking the lumps. When the bottle was empty, I set it aside and picked up the fire wand.

As I worked, my thoughts ran back to what Fandral had said. Why would Loki not tell my friends the extent of the curse Father had lain upon me? What other secrets was he keeping? Was it possible he truly did not know? I found that difficult to fathom as Loki was often steps ahead of all others in his schemes and plans. Indeed, many times had Loki lain out the plans of attack for our armies to follow in routing bandits or putting down uprisings in the more remote areas of the realm.

I was still lost in thoughts of home and Loki’s intentions as I set the controls on the fire wand and put the tiny flame to the potion-soaked fuel. There was a loud ‘whump!’ and flames leaped skyward in such a swift perfusion that they licked my face with heat, causing me to fall back.

The flames subsided as quickly as they had flared, now dancing fitfully among the little coal lumps, and my indrawn breath brought with it the scent of burned hair. My hand flew up, and found my beard sadly shortened, and frizzled from the heat, and my hands and arms stung from the passage of the flames.

“Donald!” Jane’s voice was high-pitched and alarmed as she rushed out of her own abode and across to me. Her honey-brown eyes were huge as they searched my face, and she grabbed me. “I saw the fire go up like crazy out here. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I am well enough,” I comforted her. “Darcy instructed me to light the cook fire, and I stood too near, but I am unharmed.”

She ran her slim fingers over my poor beard. “Geez, you sure had a near miss!” She looked over at the fire, which was now flickering weakly and shook her head. “Did you use all the . . . Oh, for pity’s sake never mind.” She looked down and caught her breath. “Oh my God! Look at your hands!”

“It is not serious,” I told her, though they were starting to throb somewhat, and turn red. Again, I was aghast at how fragile this mortal form was. In the past I had done battle with dragons and wyverns, laughing in their monstrous faces as they tried to drive me off with blazing breath.

“You are not fine, mister!” she yelled at me, grabbing my by shirt and dragging me indoors. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“But I should attend the fire,” I protested, looking back. The initial fire had died down to a blue and orange flicker.

She glanced around, but did not stop pulling. “There’s no wind and nothing close to burn. It’ll be fine for a few minutes while we make sure you’re not hurt.”

As we crossed the threshold, I nearly stumbled to a halt in shock. Was not Jane the Mistress of Magic in this place as Loki was Master in Asgard? My brother would never suffer himself to be housed in such a cramped and tiny space. Darcy’s quarters were positively palatial compared to Jane’s rude dwelling.

Once inside, she directed me towards the kitchen. “I’ll get the first-aid-kit while you run some cold water in the sink and soak your hands.”

I did as she instructed, after moving the small dish rack aside, letting the cooling stream flow across my hands, soothing them. Then it occurred to me that perhaps adding ice to the water would bring even greater relief. I could hear her muttering to herself as she hunted through the cubicle that housed her own tiny shower stall. “What was she thinking to leave somebody like that alone to start a fire? He could’ve been blown to bits.”

I shuddered. Was it really so dangerous? Leaving the water running, I stepped across the narrow distance to the refrigerator, and pulled to open the top compartment, meaning to take out the ice trays I thought to be there.

The door stayed adamantly shut, though the entire box did wobble. I pulled harder. Still, though the box swayed towards me, the door refused to budge.

Suddenly, I had had enough. Enough of this realm’s alien ways. Enough of this weak body. Enough of feeling a complete fool, when I was a prince and a god, meant to rule and safeguard all the realms. The loss of my weapon did not define me! The loss of my powers could not reduce me to less than what I was, and I would not be defeated by a mundane freezer door!

Bracing myself, I summoned up my might, putting both hands on the handle of the cooling box and pulled as if once more on Mjolnir’s handle.

“Donald, don’t!” Jane’s voice rang out behind me, as without warning, the door flew open wide.

My victory was short-lived, however, as the momentum tipped the box forward, sending it crashing to the floor as I barely leaped aside. Glass shattered as bottles and jars tumbled from their places, Fruits and vegetables spilled from their clear containers, rolling across the floor, along with the bags of the odd round cured meat called bologna, and half -filled tubs of tuna and chicken dishes. The carton of milk split open, sending a spray of white wide across the floor, where it was soon joined by the more colorful fluids of juice and sauces.

Jane screamed and flew to my side, looking terrified. “God, are you okay, Donald? You could have been killed!”

“I am well,” I lied, though my hands and voice shook and my knees suddenly refused to hold me upright.

“You are not all right,” Jane scolded. “Your hands are scorched. Your poor beard is half-burned off your face. You nearly killed yourself opening a damn refrigerator.” As she looked around at the mess, her eyes filled with tears and she made little choking noises. “And my kitchen’s a mess!”

Almost I remarked that her cooking space, indeed her living quarters entire, were already in such disarray as would never be tolerated in Asgard but I bit my tongue.  She was in a ‘mood’ as Darcy had said already and I thought it best I not enrage or upset her further. Besides, my own rooms at home were no tidier if I thought about it honestly.

“I am well,” I said again, though my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth and my sight grew dim.   I heard Jane scream as my legs crumpled and the floor rose up to meet me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, folks. This is at least 50% Crazy_Cat_Lady's fault. Not the 'sorry I'm so late' part - that's all on me. No it's all her fault that it actually got anywhere and didn't just stumble around in the dark looking for the bathroom.


	12. Darcy - One Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> posting for tilla123, who is having technical difficulties

I hopped out of the shower and scrambled into clean clothes. There was something seriously hinky about the Van Drell boys and I wanted to get outside before they had a chance to put their pretty blond heads together and come up with a more plausible story than the one they'd been spinning in the Jeep. Grabbing a bag of charcoal briquettes, lighter fluid and my torch, I hurried outside, humming. Gotta make it seem natural, I told myself. No matter how scrambled Donald's brains were, his lawyer brother seemed pretty sharp - plus, you know, hot.

They both came running over to help, which made me wonder what they'd been up to out here while I was in the shower. Donald hadn't shown that much energy for anything but eating, drinking and fighting since he'd been here. Deciding to let it pass for now, I handed the bag off to tall, blond and goateed and gave the rest to our resident Viking. He gave me a look that fairly screamed 'what do I do with this?'

"You can start a fire, right?"

He nodded, but then he wanted to know where we kept the wood. "We're using charcoal," I told him. "Haven't you ever done this before?" I breathed a major sigh of relief when he said he'd done so many times just not with equipment like mine. Last thing I needed was for Janie's mind-addled hunk to burn his beard off getting the fire going – or, God forbid, burn down the trailer - or have the whole of Puente Antigua’s one-truck fire department (not to mention the government goons) swarming the place before Janie had a chance to hide everything or get herself so drunk she wouldn’t know what was happening. So, I showed him how to use the torch and he seemed to get the hang of it fairly quickly, thank God.

Time to get rolling. I skipped back to where my own pin-up boy was waiting. "Wanna come along?" I waited about half a minute before I pushed a little harder. "It'll go faster with two of us," I hinted - strongly – mainly 'cause I could see he was looking a little uneasy about leaving his maybe-brain-damaged big bro alone with the fire pit and Jane – maybe especially Jane. "And I could use some help carrying stuff back," I finished in my very best 'helpless little female' voice with an eyelash bat for good measure. I halfway expected him to suggest I take the Jeep if I was getting that much. But, being the gentleman I could see he was, he just went along.

I nearly died when he made the cutest little bow and waved one hand like he was doffing a cap or something - you know the way guys in the old days would flourish their caps or hats or whatever they had on their heads? Knights probably would have, too, but the helmets were so damn heavy it'd spoil the whole affect. "As you wish," he said and I positively squealed. Like The Princess Bride is so my favorite movie of all time and here's a guy who's a super smart lawyer - plus hot - who digs it too? Had I like died and gone to heaven?

Thought I'd totally messed up, though, when I kinda, sorta, just happened to mention in passing that I wanted to see what the Men in Black were up to and Donald got all in your face and wanting to come, too. That was so not happening. You can hardly get the skinny on a dude when he's standing right there listening while you interrogate his very charming (I already mentioned 'hot', right?) brother, can ya? Didn't think so.

I seriously needed to find out how badly we'd scrambled Donald's brains what with Janie running him down twice and me lighting him up with my taser that once. Worried much? You betcha. Actually, if you wanna get all technical, Donald had sorta thrown himself right in front of us the first time, so it wasn’t really our fault at all. I smiled up at lawyer-dude – who I was majorly considering calling ‘Wesley’, after the cutie in Princess Bride, ‘cause he totally rocked that look.

Anyway, here’s hoping I could convince brother-barrister we weren't worth suing. I mean, Janie's got practically nothing but her looks and her brains and while those are seriously awesome, I didn’t think they’d buy us much in the way of ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ cards. Plus, I doubted my allowance from mummy and daddy would cover anything really major. 

I did mention the allowance, right? I mean, Janie had to know I got money from somewhere, didn't she? How else did she expect somebody'd take an unpaid internship no matter how desperately they needed the science cred? Thank God I was the only applicant or she might have gotten somebody who had their head in the clouds as much as she and Erik did and Lord only knows how that would've ended up. They'd probably forget to eat and all die of starvation. Or somebody'd forget the electric or water bills were due until everything shut off. I like to keep things a little lively, but at least I'm somewhat organized (no matter how ditzy I sound at times) and can balance the books. And believe me, those books take a lot of balancing.

Anyhow, I managed to convince Donald to ‘stay’ and 'protect' Janie since we wouldn't be gone long but who knew if that bald guy with the creepy smile would be stopping by on his way back. And what the heck were they doing in town anyway? Coulson might be the type of guy to chow-down at Izzy’s but I doubted Baldy would. He seemed more the type for white linen napkins and silver-plated flatware than the paper and stainless we used at the diner.

Long, lean and lovely helped me out some when he promised 'we're only going to find them, not fight them.' Made me wonder just a bit more what their home life was like. If he hadn't chipped in with that, I might have had to tase Donald again and devil take the hindmost as Auntie G likes to say. Anyway, thank God for the legal eagle, I thought, granting my hero a sunny smile. At least, I hoped it was sunny. I don't really do sunny that well, being more of an 'in-your-face' type. Daddy just shook his head when I said I was majoring in poli-sci, and communication in media (public speaking for radio and tv according to the brochure). "Government, Darcy?" Mummy asked. Well, duh! How else are you gonna change the system unless you know how it's supposed to work? 

Anyways, that’s enough about me. Van Drell dropped the bag of charcoal by the fire-pit and we ambled off and left Donnie-boy to get the fire started. I kinda noticed 'Wesley' - which I'm totally calling him for now - looking back with a worried little frown on his face.

"He'll be fine," I promised, giving his hand a squeeze. God, he had nice hands - long, slim fingers, with a little callous on his palms that said he wasn’t just a desk-jockey for all he was a rich, brainy lawyer dude. A guy’s hands tell you a lot about a fella and Van Drell’s hands said he was totally okay with a very ‘active’ lifestyle. Of course, he had said they rode horses and sailed, but I’d dated a guy on the fencing team at school and Van Drell totally had swordsman’s hands. I sighed, thinking how those hands would feel on me then shook my head to clear it. We were so not going there right now. Could we later? Oh, hell yeah. Absolutely. "He said he knew how to start a fire," I reminded him. "Was he lying? Or do you think he's forgotten?"

Van Drell shook his head. "We are both quite conversant with the making of campfires," he said with a smile, white teeth gleaming in that cute little goatee of his. "But we have never seen such ma . . . materials as you use."

I could feel my eyebrows shooting up into my hairline and forced them back down. Forehead wrinkles were so not my best look. "You’re joking, right?”

He shook his head. “I would never jest with such a beauteous and charming lady,” he said in a tone that made me wonder just how many ‘beauteous and charming’ ladies had heard that same line or something awfully similar.

I frowned. “So,” I remarked all casual-like. “Are you boys like Amish or something?” I was pretty darned sure none of the Amish boys I’d seen on our way to New York by way of Philly and surrounding countryside were ever going to grow up to be fancy-schmancy lawyers but who knows. One of them might – about the same time as pigs learn to fly or Hell freezes over.

He frowned – puzzled like. “Lady Darcy?”

"Huh?" Who calls anybody 'Lady', nowadays? Well, unless you're talking to British nobility, which I totally am not. And nobody had called me ‘lady’ since my freshman year when I punched Jimmy Daniels in the face. Loosened two of his teeth and gave him a black eye for the sarcasm. And why give me the puzzled look? I mean, I’m not nearly as hard to understand as Jane or Erik when they get on a roll and he’d been perfectly okay listening to her rattle on. Jealous much, was I? I didn’t think so since Janie’s not only my sort-of boss but also a friend. And I am not jealous of my friends. But it did seem kind of unfair for both the boys to be hanging after her, even if she is all gorgeous and brainy. I’m not exactly chopped liver myself and my brain’s every bit as good as hers – just in a totally different area.

I gave his hand another little squeeze. Did I mention he had really nice hands?

He smiled – nice smile, too, I thought and grinned back. “So, what’s it like when you go camping and need to light a fire? You do it the really old-fashioned way with rocks and flint or do you just rub two sticks together?”

“We’re hardly as primitive as that,” he said with this throaty little chuckle. “Most often, Loki will simply snap his fingers to start a small blaze.”

Well, that was a relief. They were at least familiar with a good old Bic. I grinned and decided to drop that line of questioning. Get back on track, Darcy, I told myself - less about him and more about Donald. I cleared my throat a little. “So, what’s your brother like at home?” I asked, super casual-like. That seemed innocent enough – at least I thought it did.

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“What I mean is, what’s he like when he’s home with just the two of you – and family, of course.” He was still frowning, so I rushed on. “I mean, when he’s in familiar surroundings, is he always this slow?” I winced.

Now Van Drell’s eyebrows shot up. It looked a hell of a lot better on him. “What mean you by ‘this ‘slow’? I have never known him to be slow.”

I took a deep breath. You know, is he always this confused about simple stuff like how the television works or how a light turns on and how to use charcoal . . .” I could see he was looking more confused than even Donald normally did. “You guys are Amish, aren’t you?” I exclaimed. “Or is it just that’s he in a strange place that’s got him so addled?”

“Addled?” 

“Okay, so maybe ‘addled’ not the best way to put it,” I said. “He just acts sometimes like he’s not all there, like he’s off in his own little make-believe world. It’s worrisome, ya know?”

He shook his head and I gritted my teeth. “Okay, maybe not worrisome for you but it is for us. We never know what’ll set him off.” I took another breath, dropped his hand and spun him around to face me. “Is he like off in the head?” I blurted and Van Drell frowned.

“I do not understand,” he insisted.

Damn. So they’d never talked about his big bro’s mental issues? That was so sad. He looked like he was getting a headache, though, so I decided to let that slide, too. I was getting nowhere with this questioning technique and began to wish we’d let Mr. Coulson work on Donald a little longer. 

“No mental health issues?” I asked. “No bumps on the head as a small child?”

He laughed then. “Oh, he has had many a bump on the head,” he said, still grinning. “But not to any ill effect for his skull is quite strong.”

“So, how’d you all know where Donald was or that we were calling him ‘Donald’? Wow, Darcy. Blunt much?

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean,” I said real quick. “You showed up with papers that even said ‘Donald Blake’. And we’d only been there like a day-and-a-half which really shouldn’t have given you time to get papers signed, get on a plane and get all the way out to S.H.I.E.L.D’s little hideaway.” I tried smiling but it probably came out more like a grimace. “How’d you do that?” I was not asking about the ‘old man with the pickup truck’. We all knew Mr. Lee drove around the country at all hours picking up strays so the fact he’d picked up Donald’s brother when his car broke down was totally plausible. I might ask, later, where his car had disappeared to, but that was pretty much not important for now.

He turned kinda pinkish (which was cute) and coughed a little, then started glancing around like he expected (or maybe hoped) somebody was gonna pop out from behind a cactus and feed him the answers. So, not quite as good a liar as I’d thought when he was talking to Coulson. He’d been pretty convincing back then.

“Never mind,” I said even quicker than before. “It’s okay if you’ve got psychics in the family. I’m cool with that.” I so did not want him going all broody and clam-up on me. Besides, I didn’t care all that much how he’d managed it. It was just cool that he had. We kept quiet and just walked for a little while and let me tell you it was the longest five minutes of my entire life.

“So,” I said when we got close enough to town to see the buildings up close and personal. “Has your bro always been weird like this? Not that I mean to pry or anything,” I added in a rush ‘cause he was looking a little vexed, if you take my meaning. 

Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I needed to know if ‘Donald’ had always been scrambled or if we’d really done damage. My money was on ‘from birth’ (or at least ‘quite a while back’) based on the shit he’d been shouting when we hit him. And yeah, I did say ‘we’. Technically, I’d been driving even though Jane had totally grabbed the wheel.

He looked at me like I’d sprouted a third eye. “Weird? My brother does not have visions nor does he see the fate of others or himself.” 

“Yeah,” I said, getting a little testy myself. “Has he always thought he was this ‘Thor’ guy – with the hammer and all?”

He smiled and I felt this pleasant little shiver run all the way from my head down to my sneakers. “That is his name. He has been called so from birth,” he said dead-serious-like. “Did he not tell you so?”

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Wait! So his name really is Thor? We all just thought he was making it up.” He winced and I toned it down a smidge. “God, what kind of idiots name their kid ‘Thor’. Was he dropped on his head as a baby? Is that why he thinks he’s really the Thunder-guy with all this son-of-Odin shit?”

He jerked to a stop and I nearly landed on my ass. “None would have dared drop a son of Odin,” he said and I could tell he wasn’t kidding. My eyebrows jumped back up into my hairline. Really gotta do something about that, Darcy, I thought as I smoothed them back down - again.

“So,” I sputtered calmly. Why not? There was nothing to get excited about. So they were Amish or some weird New Age Viking cult. Sven, Rolf, Odin, Thor – those were all perfectly good Scandinavian names, right? “So,” I said again. “Daddy’s a real bad-ass, huh?” I mean he’d have to be, wouldn’t he?

He laughed right out loud then and I grinned. He had a really great laugh. I kept right on grinning right up until he remarked as how their father had never taken such a form and if he hadn’t been told Thor’s other brother, Loki, had done so he’d never have believed it possible.

I sighed, feeling kinda sorry for the guy. Maybe his whole damn family was a little bit nuts to one degree or another and he was the only one who wasn’t. It’d been known to happen. Grandma Lewis’s older sister (my great-aunt Louisa) had some strange little quirks – she’d go around rubbing her hands and crying “out, out, damn spot’ like she was Lady MacBeth or reciting stuff from Faust or some other really depressing shit. She’d been a famous stage actress back in the day and never quite gave it up.

“So, I said again, ‘cause I couldn’t think of much else to say. “His name really is Thor, his daddy’s Odin, that’d make you Bauldr, right? Isn’t the youngest, prettiest, smartest one always Bauldr in the stories?”” I’d done a little reading on Google after Erik had shown us that kid’s mythology book and I was totally skipping the other brother because who wants to talk about a guy who thinks he’s a horse?

Van Drell laughed again. “Bauldr, is but a child,” he said, holding one hand a little more than waist-high.

I shook my head. “Okay, daddy Odin, big bro, Thor.” He nodded encouragingly. “Baby bro is Bauldr and you and the other bro, (whose name I was totally not mentioning), are somewhere in the middle.”

Maybe I wasn’t mentioning middle bro’s name but he wasn’t forgetting it. “Loki,” he said with a tiny frown. “His name is Loki.” So they were definitely Neo-Vikings, not Amish.

“Isn’t ‘Loki’ like the bad guy in the stories?” I blurted, because I was pretty sure that’s what Wiki said. “Always getting into and causing trouble? Why’d your parents give their baby a bad luck name like that anyway?” I was so totally not mentioning the story where this Loki dude tricked some blind guy into sticking an arrow into baby Bauldr.

“He is a trickster,” Van Drell admitted with a little smile. “But there is no evil in him.”  
I opened my mouth to ask if he was sure, and then Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star started playing in my jacket pocket, Van Drell shied like a startled horse. I grinned and shrugged. “Janie,” I explained. “Probably just wants to get the party started.” I took a breath and pulled my iPhone out of my pocket. 

“Yo, Janie, what’s up?” I glanced at Van Drell. “She wants us to pick up more beer, I bet,” I said hoping that was all it was. Van Drell nodded.

I listened for a bit, making all the appropriate noises while she described (loudly and in frightening detail) her misadventures in babysitting and why everything was my fault. I sighed and rolled my eyes, but I really couldn’t blame her. If we hadn’t left Donald – Thor – there to get the fire started, none of it would’ve happened and Janie’d probably be pleasantly plastered by now instead of screaming ‘I hate you, Darcy Lewis,’ loud enough to shatter eardrums. Even Van Drell was looking shocked. I was mildly surprised she hadn’t also said “You’re fired!” like she’d tried to do once or twice before.

I eyed Van Drell. “Your big bro had a little trouble with the fire,” I said, plastering a smile on my face. 

Van Drell frowned. “Trouble?” he asked. “What manner of trouble? Is he injured? If he has been harmed . . . .”

“Chill, dude,” I said and gave him a little whack on the shoulder with the flat of my palm. “He’s fine.” Just a teeny weeny little white lie couldn’t hurt, I figured and it’s not like the guy was dead or anything – just unconscious.

I stopped walking, said bye-bye to Jane and shut up for a bit (again, not easy for me). I tried to think which was also not easy what with the way things he had said were twisting around in my head and making it hurt. 

“Are we not to continue our journey, Lady Darcy?” he asked after a few minutes of dead silence, giving me puppy-dog eyes which made me just turn into a puddle of goo right then and there. Call me crazy but at least I’d be in good company. “Your little village is so very close it would be shameful to turn back now, would it not?” 

Again with the puppy eyes and I sighed. We did have a few things (like aspirin) to pick up and I did want to see if the Men in Black were skulking around, spying on things, because that’s what all those alphabet-soup agencies like S.H.I.E.L.D. and the DHS and the NSA, CIA, FBI ad infinitum do. And I really wanted some hard liquor for the fru-fru drinks Janie liked so much. Thought I might try a few of those, myself, tonight.

“Sure,” I agreed, starting to move again. “Shameful. Can’t forget the booze.” 

“Boos?” he asked. “Why should we be booed?” Then, it was like this little lightbulb going off in his head. “Ah,” he exclaimed, nodding. “You speak of the shame we would bring upon ourselves should we fail to complete our quest.” He shook his pretty blond head. “I myself have never been booed but there are those of my kin who have been shamed thus.” 

I took a deep breath and started walking a little faster. “Right, of course I meant those boos,” I muttered, praying we’d get home and find Donald and Janie and the trailers still in one piece. I’d seen a teeny bit of the fight with the S.H.I.E.L.D. guys before I’d hustled off to find Eric and I still had picures in my head of the rumble in the bar. We still didn’t know what had happened to take him down at the site – or make him pass out in Janie’s trailer. 

“We’d better make this fast,” I muttered.

“Your mistress is angry with us?” he asked with a frown.

“Not angry, exactly, I answered. “She’s just a tad perturbed. And she’s not my . . . .oh, never mind.” I suppose to their way of thinking, Janie being my ‘boss’ made her my ‘mistress’. I just hoped that was what he meant and not the other kind of mistress because we definitely were not on those kind of terms. Not that I hadn't experimented some my sophomore year, you understand, and not that Janie wasn't gorgeous, but I just didn't get the vibe that she'd be exactly open to the idea, if ya know what I mean.

It didn’t take long to make it into town, thank God, but Izzy’s was closed up tight and the bar seemed deader than a 3-day-old mackerel. What the Hell was going on? 

Van Drell looked around, with a tiny little frown on his face. “Is this place always this . . . quiet?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nope,” I said, trying for casual which I didn’t feel at all. Then I noticed the signboard on the bar. “She’s closed for repairs. Guess your brother did more damage than we thought.” I was so not taking credit for any of that damage, except for maybe a broken bottle or two.

The hunky blond babe beside me nodded. “That does sound like him,” he said with a smile.

“Van Drell,” a voice from on high came floating down to us. “Wait there and I will join you.” I glanced up to see a roly-poly man who looked like he could be Santa’s younger brother standing on the roof of the bank. 

Where the hell had he come from I wondered as I glanced at Van Drell. “Is that the doctor you were talking about?” I asked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor wakes up; Jane makes fire WITH SCIENCE

I awoke to much sound and fury, the sound of Jane shouting in anger as she half-knelt beside me.  She held a wand that blazed with the light of a thousand suns pointing into my eyes.  I shut them tight despite her best efforts to force them open for I am a great deal stronger than she.

“Oh, thank God,” I heard her say, though her voice sounded odd and distant.  “I was half-afraid you were killed for a minute there.”

Afraid I’d been killed for a minute?  I did not understand, even after so long on Midgard, exactly how long a ‘minute’ might be, but the thought that one might be killed for such a space of time and then brought back made me wonder.  I had always believed death in glorious battle called the Valkyrie to lead a warrior to Valhalla.  A less fitting end (such as the one I must have suffered most recently) brought one to the gates of Hel.

How much power did these women have?  Was Fandral safe with the one who wielded lightning near as powerful as mine own?  Would Loki’s magic be a match for them or would even the All-Father find himself at a loss?  

“I am quite well,” I said, e’en though my head felt as if all the dwarves in Nidavaller hammered within.   “I am difficult, indeed, well-nigh impossible to kill,” I continued as I made an attempt to rise only to fall back as she pushed at my shoulder.  Perhaps obedience was my best recourse.  

“Stay right there,” she ordered.  “I can’t imagine what Darcy and that brother of yours were thinking to leave you to start a fire all by yourself.  Or me,” she continued as though speaking to herself, “to expect you – brain-damaged as you are – to figure out how that blasted freezer door works without one of us showing you.”

“They went ‘shopping’, or so Lady Darcy said,” I protested, pretending not to have heard that later comment for it sounded much like something Loki would have said.  I felt some slight regret for the half-truth I spoke, but dared not mention the reference Darcy had made to seeking out the men of S.H.I.E.L.D.  Indeed, I thought Fandral and the dark-haired witch could explain their absence far better than I and Jane’s hands were very soothing as she touched my face and shoulders and smoothed my poor scorched borrowed shirt so that I determined to lay there quietly just as she commanded.

“Shopping?” Jane murmured.  “That’s odd.  She’s got burgers and dogs in the fridge plus she said she had potato and macaroni salads and her aunt’s truffles.  What the hell are they shopping for when I’m broke?”  Her eyes narrowed.  “What aren’t you telling me, Donald?”

“Mayhap,” I suggested, “they wished to walk together in the moonlight?  Your apprentice is an attractive female and my brother is . . .”  My tongue twisted so I could barely speak the words.

“There’s cloud-cover, Donald,” Jane snapped.  “It’s been raining buckets; there’s no moonlight to speak of  and Darcy’s my intern, not my apprentice.  Now, how about giving me the truth, for a change, please?”

“My name is Thor and I am the son of Odin,” I grumbled under my breath to steel my nerve.  Aloud, I answered, “They may have gone also to seek out the whereabouts of the S.H.I.E.L.D. men.”  I have not Loki’s ability with words.  He can take your words and twist them so they seem not to mean what you thought they meant.  No wonder All-Father Odin had sent my brother as ambassador to both the Vanir and the Light Elf courts when he was hardly more than a boy.

“They did what?  When?  And you just let them go?  Are you nuts?  Oh, wait.  Why am I even asking?”  Her voice had risen to a near shriek and I covered my ears.  “You’re the guy who actually believes he’s a Norse god!”  

She ripped several sheets of towels from the rolls of paper on her counter and threw them on the floor in a vain attempt to soak up the liquids spilled there.

“How was I to stop them?” I bit back a cry for my head felt like to split.  “Are they not grown and free to make their own decisions? And, loathe though I am to admit it, I feared Mistress Darcy might have struck me down yet again had I attempted to dissuade them by anything more than words.”    

Jane choked back a sob as she filled the bucket with water and a bottled liquid that smelt of lemon.  “Oh, be serious.  You didn’t really think she’d taser you again, did you?”   I nodded and she shook her head.  “You’re wrong, Donald.  Darcy wouldn’t do that – not now that she knows you, anyway.  And I bet you could’ve convinced your brother to stay here, if you’d even half tried.  And if he’d stayed, Darcy wouldn’t have taken off alone and the party wouldn’t be ruined and I’d be well on my way to getting drunk instead of standing here arguing with you.”  With a hiccup she collapsed onto the cot crowded into her sleeping alcove.

I waited impatiently for her to control her tears and when it seemed not likely to occur soon, I took up the stick and began to sweep the floor with it, muttering to myself as I did so.   Jane watched my struggles for some moments in disbelief.

“No idea how a mop works?” she asked, taking the thing from my hands and shaking her head.  I realized, then, that what I had thought were tears had been laughter.  “Mama never taught you anything in the kitchen or is that all ‘woman’s work’?”   I ground my teeth and clenched my fists and wished I had Mjolnir to hand.  How dare she mock the son of All-Father Odin?  Loki might choose to spend his time in kitchens or stables performing his little ‘tricks’ for the common folk, but, as a son of Odin, I thought he should have done better to keep a suitable distance.  No wonder, too, that some thought him too ‘womanly’. Even to calling him ‘half-man’, though never was it said to his face or even in our Mother’s hearing – save that once when Sif’s tongue had escaped her lips.

Jane muttered something about ‘chauvinistic males’ and this being the twenty-first century but I understood little of it and made my way out of doors rather than fight another battle I was sure to lose.  Words were my brother’s weapons, not mine.  For some moments I stared at the place where the fire was to have gone and pondered how I should proceed.

“Do you want some help?”

I spun in surprise.  When had she followed me out?  Though I was ashamed to be inept at even this simple task, I nodded.  “I am not familiar with these.”

She picked up the potion flask and shook it.  Seeing it was empty, she tossed it into the refuse bin beside the fence.  

“Is there more of this potion?” I asked, plaintively, for the flames had now died completely.  

“No,” she pushed her hair back, studying the coals.  Then she brightened.  “But I know a better way to start a barbecue.” 

“You will use magic?”  Much as I resented my helplessness, I was eager to see what she might do.

“Nope,” she laughed.  “I’ll use science!”

She led me to the bin of ‘recycling’ where such things as glass bottles and empty food containers were placed to be taken away and used again, or remade into other things, Darcy had explained, but I had not entirely understood her.  She fished out two metal food cans and set them on a bench.  “Just the thing.  Hang on, I’ll be right back!”

I waited as she went back in and soon returned with a box of tools.  She set about making holes in the cans, and fitting them together in a clever manner.  When she was done, she held up her creation with a triumphant cry.

It did not look as if it would make fire, but I was quickly proven wrong.  Jane filled the can thing’s bottom with old papers, and added a few of the coals to set it alight.  Once they were burning cheerily, she showed me how to use them to light the rest of the fire, just as I would use small branches to light larger logs.

“There,” she exclaimed, replacing the metal once the fire was burning.  “That should do it!”  She frowned.  “Let’s hope my ‘apprentice’ and your brother get back before it dies down.”  She paused.  “Your brother’s not going to do anything stupid is he?”

I heard the words ‘like you did’ in her voice, though she spoke them not.  I shrugged.  “He has been known to follow into danger where others lead,” I admitted, wishing more than ever that my true brother were here to give counsel e’en though we rarely followed it.

Jane closed her eyes and groaned.  “Let’s hope Darcy doesn’t ‘lead’ him into anything, then,” she muttered.  “Though I’d have thought a lawyer like him would’ve had more sense than to go off looking for S.H.I.E.L.D. after what we’ve already been through.”

She turned, striding toward her tiny house on wheels, and I trudged along behind.  “Shouldn’t you be watching the fire,” she grumbled as she entered and saw once more the shambles I had made of her living space.  “I’ve got a bone to pick with Darcy and it might be more than you need to hear.”

“I only wish to help,” I protested, stepping across the threshold before she could shut me out.  “If you will but show me what must be done, I am certain I can . . . “

“You’ve done more than enough already, Donald,” she said, cutting me off and patting my shoulder as though I were a child.  “But thanks, anyway.”  She glanced around, sighing.  “I need to let Darcy know we’re going to need some stuff for the drinks besides liquor.”  She gave a weak laugh and shook her head.  “Thank God I don’t keep that in the refrigerator, huh?”

I could not but agree and hoped Fandral had brought coin enough to not only repay Jane and Darcy for the aid they had given but to purchase whatever Darcy required for their ‘barbecue’.  I was still most uncomfortable with the thought of consuming dogs – hot or otherwise.

I stepped back outside and saw that the fire was lowering so determined to make myself useful despite Jane’s bitter words.  I should at least be able to find wood enough to feed the flames, though much of what lay close to hand was very damp and would be more like to produce smoke than heat.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I owe about a gazillion thanks to Crazy_Cat_Lady for all the encouragement, editing, and a virtual shoulder to cry on while this thing was gestating.


End file.
